light the match to taste the heat

I used to hold your haunted neck; I know I'll miss you if I close my eyes

"Those are some strong words for a man using me the same way he uses his cane," Danta drawls, trying for levity. (Where the fuck is his cane anyway). But then they're playing a game of leapfrog with a cart and Danta grits his teeth to make sure he doesn't accidentally drop the other man. Only once he's settled does the Maverick hop up to join him, patting the side of the cart to tell the driver they can head off.

Around them are a few crates, presumably of supplies or stock for something, but there's enough room for them to ride fairly comfortably, if not feeling a bit cramped, and Danta slouches to sit beside Asta. "Let me," he says instantly, retrieving the vial of water from his shaking hands and uncorking it. Cupping the other man's jaw and guiding his head back, the Maverick is careful of the movement of the cart as he tips the water into his mouth.

And call him an idiot (it's the first time he's seen it in action ok) but he expects it to just fix everything, feeling most put out when the wounds don't magically knit back together entirely. "Did it do anything? If they just gave us water, I swear to Dygra--" Already he's ready to throw hands about it, evidently.

Dantalion