[ The praise makes something inside Ronan glow warmly, even as he tries to shake off every single feeling that's clinging to his mind. He wants to be numb, to assess the current situation without his heart clogging up his every thought. He looks at his father - the image of his father, healthy and smirking. They share the same nose, the same sharp eyes. Ronan sniffles loudly. ]
You're dead. [ He says the words as coldly as he can, his voice unwavering as he does. He's betrayed by the way he's feeling breathless, lungs contracted by the tension tightening his body. ]
You've been dead for years. And I swear to God if you patronize me, I will punch you.
[ This is his father, and saying the words hurt. He wants to fold himself in the space between his father's arms and cry with relief that he's here. But he can't allow himself to believe this is real. It cannot be. Ronan's seen too many tricks now to trust what his eyes are showing him. ]
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You're dead. [ He says the words as coldly as he can, his voice unwavering as he does. He's betrayed by the way he's feeling breathless, lungs contracted by the tension tightening his body. ]
You've been dead for years. And I swear to God if you patronize me, I will punch you.
[ This is his father, and saying the words hurt. He wants to fold himself in the space between his father's arms and cry with relief that he's here. But he can't allow himself to believe this is real. It cannot be. Ronan's seen too many tricks now to trust what his eyes are showing him. ]