Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“Of course.” Astaroth hums, waiting like the gentleman he is for her to slip into his room and collect her mug, to walking along beside her as they wander back toward the bar. Debauchery has already begun in many corners of the brothel, but it seems to phase Astaroth far little as he settles on a stool back at the bar, flashing the bartender an easy and sharp smile.
The cane is retrieved and Asta hooks it on the lip of the counter again beside him, tail curling around the edge of his barstool’s legs as he downs the rest of the glass of the mulled wine and politely requests one of those sweet drinks that Danta had crafted for him (for those wondering, it’s a chocolate martini), his sweet tooth on full display. “I am intending to take over one of the rooms in the back for a sort of… Headquarters, I suppose it would be called.” He muses, casting a glance toward her sidelong. “But, seeing as you are the Ambassador, do you have any preferences for which side I should take?” Preferably one opposite of Danta’s desk, for whenever the Maverick is sat upon it if only to antagonize the blonde.
But those thoughts he keeps to himself, hidden behind the hungry twist of his lips as he hides it behind the glass he sips from.
The cane is retrieved and Asta hooks it on the lip of the counter again beside him, tail curling around the edge of his barstool’s legs as he downs the rest of the glass of the mulled wine and politely requests one of those sweet drinks that Danta had crafted for him (for those wondering, it’s a chocolate martini), his sweet tooth on full display. “I am intending to take over one of the rooms in the back for a sort of… Headquarters, I suppose it would be called.” He muses, casting a glance toward her sidelong. “But, seeing as you are the Ambassador, do you have any preferences for which side I should take?” Preferably one opposite of Danta’s desk, for whenever the Maverick is sat upon it if only to antagonize the blonde.
But those thoughts he keeps to himself, hidden behind the hungry twist of his lips as he hides it behind the glass he sips from.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
