concealed by your slight of hand

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Consideration instead of reckless doing? That's so you, it's sickening," Danta drawls, his tone as playful as his smile, and he sets his drink down beside Astaroth's so he can drum his fingers along the warm glass. While they talk the Maverick takes stock of the Dusklight now that he's finally back and with his head screwed on straight, and he's pleased to note that the party he'd started seems to be winding down towards something more casual. Good - it means no one is likely to care should he decide not to be on the main floor or out in the Backrooms.

And as his gaze drifts back to the counter, why yes, he does notice the shimmer of something against Asta's hand, though rather than commenting on it outright, he merely commits it to memory with a pang of satisfaction. "Mm, something must be very wrong if I am in my office," he agrees without irony or humour, his nose scrunching. "Still... all's well that ends well. Do you think I need a new ambassador, or is Kiada enough?"

Dantalion