Ronan being an eighteen year old shithead meant there was no way to stop the smirk at head and shaft talk, but he at least kept his laugh to a little snort and kept jotting down notes.
“Carbon fiber I can do. I was afraid you were gonna name some weird shit we don’t have in my world.” Once he was done writing notes, he held out the pad and pen. “You wanna draw it or just trust me to not make it ugly as fuck?” Even though he said it jokingly, there was a seriousness to his expression. Ronan took dreaming seriously. He took what he brought into the world seriously. He hadn’t forgotten his many talks with Declan. Every piece he put out into this weird place was a risk to Matthew, but he had to dream, so why not something useful for a friend?