Not unless you happen to find the owner of this sword.
[ Much as Ronan would love to continue drowning his sorrows in alcohol, there's an insane plan he needs to enact, and it requires him to be mentally present in some capacity. Once more clutching the lightsaber against his heart, he retreats a step, like he means to walk away, though he won't be walking at all. ]
If you can do that, I'll owe you my whole damn life.
Wish I could, mate. Only thing I know I can do without properly fucking up is finding places I've never been to without maps and that.
[ Places that aren't even on maps, too. At least, he can't find people yet, but give him time. He looks genuinely regretful at his shortcomings, like he'd give a lot to be able to lend the bloke a helping hand. Tucking his unlit cigarette behind one ear, he pulls his comms device from his jacket pocket and holds it up. ]
You've got my network ID, yeah? Give me a bell if you ever need to find a place. ...or if your shit goes missing. I'm uh... working on not accidentally doing that.
[ Ronan nods, a simple gesture of acknowledgement and gratitude. He doubts he'll need those services, but it's good to know where to look if some other precious possession goes missing. ]
Thanks again.
[ Then Ronan is gone. Not vanished, because time has bent strangely around the precise moment of his leaving, and left in his place is the sense that maybe the entire interaction was imagined all along.
Even if it was, the lightsaber has gone with him. ]
[ Double-taking at the space Ronan had been standing, Bob's first instinct is to look over his shoulder. He doesn't really know why he does it, just knows that what's in front of him makes no sense.
With his only task for the day done and no black eye to show for it, he finally pulls the cigarette from behind his ear, presses it to his mouth and sparks up. Sucking the familiar taste into his mouth, he inhales the smoke and considers it a comfort. The only thing he feels like is familiar and real in the space around him. Glancing around once more, just to check, he shakes his head and turns tail, smoke floating lazily in his wake as he decides the bar a few blocks away is exactly what he needs. ]
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[ Much as Ronan would love to continue drowning his sorrows in alcohol, there's an insane plan he needs to enact, and it requires him to be mentally present in some capacity. Once more clutching the lightsaber against his heart, he retreats a step, like he means to walk away, though he won't be walking at all. ]
If you can do that, I'll owe you my whole damn life.
no subject
[ Places that aren't even on maps, too. At least, he can't find people yet, but give him time. He looks genuinely regretful at his shortcomings, like he'd give a lot to be able to lend the bloke a helping hand. Tucking his unlit cigarette behind one ear, he pulls his comms device from his jacket pocket and holds it up. ]
You've got my network ID, yeah? Give me a bell if you ever need to find a place. ...or if your shit goes missing. I'm uh... working on not accidentally doing that.
no subject
Thanks again.
[ Then Ronan is gone. Not vanished, because time has bent strangely around the precise moment of his leaving, and left in his place is the sense that maybe the entire interaction was imagined all along.
Even if it was, the lightsaber has gone with him. ]
no subject
With his only task for the day done and no black eye to show for it, he finally pulls the cigarette from behind his ear, presses it to his mouth and sparks up. Sucking the familiar taste into his mouth, he inhales the smoke and considers it a comfort. The only thing he feels like is familiar and real in the space around him. Glancing around once more, just to check, he shakes his head and turns tail, smoke floating lazily in his wake as he decides the bar a few blocks away is exactly what he needs. ]