Chapter 39

Ronan had himself awkwardly sprawled across the bed, arms stretched to flatten a spare scrap of parchment on the corner of his nightstand. Aimlessly tapping his lip with the butt of his pen as all the ways he could have worded his letter escaped him. He had briefly recapped his stay at Cobalt to his self proclaimed uncle, but before he could end the note with a sagging signature, Phantom popped up the idea of begging for illicit artifacts again.

Now, torn between the unlikely chance of getting what he wanted, and banking on the bliss of ignorance his uncle would tack to him when he asked for the object, Ronan was at an utter loss for what to write.

He tried to imagine the situation as if he was back home. Opening his front door to face the towering man, his flowing clothes just as colourful as his personality, and the little blue car he swerved about the roads on parked right on the lawn. What would he do if Ronan opened that door with a stiff smile and asked for drug money?

Ronan bit