concealed by your slight of hand

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

Happy enough to be called wise - a compliment that Danta has rarely if ever received in his life - and already thinking of new additions to his repertoire that he might buy to adorn his new jewellery stand, Danta inclines his head to the butcher as if to say but obviously. "I was thinking of perhaps going up to Stormbreak to see what the fuss is about," he remarks - in terms of their shopping districts, anyway. "You went there once, right? Anything good?"

Unlike a previous time together at this very bar, Danta accepts the touch with little more than a sideways glance towards Astaroth, eyes flicking up towards the bartender as he's sent on his way to make some drink or another for the other man. Leaning in automatically as he senses that there's more the butcher wants to say, to anyone looking, they might be sharing some lewd and dark business secret. It certainly seems that way anyway, by the sharp and Cheshire smile that spreads across the Maverick's face.

"You are too good to me," he purrs. "Give Charlie my regards for it as well. It isn't quite the same as killing it myself, but it'll certainly take the edge off."

Dantalion