concealed by your slight of hand

// up above so, up above so quiet //

He tries diligently to rid more of the glitter, succeeding in only removing half of it. But it’s enough to not be quite as blinding when his admission is aired, the cloth lowering to the bar as he hums a note of agreement to Danta’s assessment. “Not nearly.” He agrees with a low rumble, shifting to down the rest of the juice before he continues. “More freedom, ironically.” Given that his preferences were in fact a free for all with the Climb, the rest had been strict. Herding parties of strays to the mouth of the Climb, seeking out and punishing those that had fucked up, all of that had a very uncomfortably tight leash.

Folding the damp cloth as best he can without transferring the glitter, Asta’s dark gaze flits back toward the Maverick with a small nod. “Business as usual.” He agrees, though one look around the bar seems to suggest that with the party winding down and the groups perfectly content and causing absolutely zero trouble, there’s very little for him to do.

So he looks over at the Maverick once more, head cocking slightly. “I recall that I asked for you to let me know when you would like to eat, but... Would you like to have that meal when you’re finished instead?” He asks, thinking that the only thing that would make himself feel better about the glitter is to mask it with blood. But he doesn’t want to use it unless Danta’s there to indulge all the same.

Astaroth

// down below so, down below so violent //