a romantic, candelit dinner would be incomplete
“Mm, I’ve had worse.” Asta murmurs, flashing a small amused smile toward the Maverick. It’s a smile that broadens despite the pain of his shoulder and the disinfectant as the medic inspects the wound, because it absolutely was good news that he’d gotten a bite, staving off a trip to the clinic later.
It isn’t too long before he’s getting wrapped up too, slipping the shoulder of his suit back over his arm, wincing lightly as it presses against the pain. He murmurs a thanks and quickly picks up the shot, giving it a cursory sniff first, as if trying to determine what it was.
He lifts it to clink against Danta’s moments after, right at the time his spaded tail moves yet again, brushing against the blonde’s as it wraps along the other man’s barstool in turn (and maybe the end winds its way around the Maverick’s own, too). “To a job well done.” He repeats, before downing the shot and humming a sound as it burns against his throat, wincing lightly at the sharp tang of smoke and fruit left behind.
It isn’t too long before he’s getting wrapped up too, slipping the shoulder of his suit back over his arm, wincing lightly as it presses against the pain. He murmurs a thanks and quickly picks up the shot, giving it a cursory sniff first, as if trying to determine what it was.
He lifts it to clink against Danta’s moments after, right at the time his spaded tail moves yet again, brushing against the blonde’s as it wraps along the other man’s barstool in turn (and maybe the end winds its way around the Maverick’s own, too). “To a job well done.” He repeats, before downing the shot and humming a sound as it burns against his throat, wincing lightly at the sharp tang of smoke and fruit left behind.
Astaroth
without all this blood /////
