[ Sometimes, Ronan hates how alike he and Declan look. One is more of a politician, put together right, while the other is more like its shadow, a mess of things with too sharp cheekbones. But sometimes, Ronan looks at Declan, his nice hair and his fake smile and his bruised knuckles, and he realizes they're not so different.

He hates it. ]

Got here in the afternoon, according to her. [ He shrugs the shoulder Chainsawd is sitting on. ] Mainly been looking for food and water. A place to sleep. My friends.