you made your choice
Drinks were easy to bet. Too easy, actually. Because he wants to make it something worth Danta’s fighting spirit to actually want to bet on and win. So it’s with a curved and toothy smirk that he meets the Maverick’s gaze, shoulder rolling slightly, erring all that arrogant confidence that had made them hate each other in the past, he dips his head in agreement to the purr. “Good.” He says nothing else on it, not as Danta steps out and waits.
Which gives him precisely the amount of time needed to add another to the bunch – a rainbow work of stained glass that’s reminiscent of the Maverick’s diamond horns, with a similar chime to the one in his hand he’s already in the process of purchasing. A quiet little rumble and gentle, polite murmurings of wrapping the one in a fine set of cloth, Astaroth pays and steps out, slipping one package that looks rather dull and boring into the inner breast pocket of his coat, while the other wrapped in a fine satin-like deep emerald is left out as he comes to stand before the other Ancient, squinting down at him in the light.
“Whoever wins gets to choose how it goes. Does that sound fair?” He hums, waiting a heartbeat of a second, scanning the gathering crowd, before he stands up a little bit straighter and extends that package in his hand out for the Maverick. Inside he’ll find a windchime not unlike Asta’s in terms of its chime, but with a brilliant array of rainbow and clear hues, just like the horns nestled in Danta’s blonde hair. “This is for you, by the way.”
Which gives him precisely the amount of time needed to add another to the bunch – a rainbow work of stained glass that’s reminiscent of the Maverick’s diamond horns, with a similar chime to the one in his hand he’s already in the process of purchasing. A quiet little rumble and gentle, polite murmurings of wrapping the one in a fine set of cloth, Astaroth pays and steps out, slipping one package that looks rather dull and boring into the inner breast pocket of his coat, while the other wrapped in a fine satin-like deep emerald is left out as he comes to stand before the other Ancient, squinting down at him in the light.
“Whoever wins gets to choose how it goes. Does that sound fair?” He hums, waiting a heartbeat of a second, scanning the gathering crowd, before he stands up a little bit straighter and extends that package in his hand out for the Maverick. Inside he’ll find a windchime not unlike Asta’s in terms of its chime, but with a brilliant array of rainbow and clear hues, just like the horns nestled in Danta’s blonde hair. “This is for you, by the way.”
Astaroth
do you regret it yet?
