honey, ask me, I should know
Rather than dignifying Asta with an answer - because he absolutely believes the other man ought to be jealous given his closeness to their goddess - Danta accepts victory gracefully, in his humble opinion, shifting just enough on the other man's lap to get intimately comfortable, before accepting the gift.
"Is it, now?" he asks, raising his eyebrows and turning to grin up at the butcher. Reaching up with a free hand not busy ripping at the paper, he gently grasps Asta's jaw - and flames flare from his fingertips, licking gently at his cheeks. "Mine has too," he whispers, as though it's a secret he's been keeping.
But then there's a gift to open, and regardless of Asta's opinion of the mediocre colours, it's what's inside that counts, as they say. Releasing the other man so he can lift the lid from the box, Danta holds up the shirt with eyes that widen a fraction at the craftsmanship (and the sheer nature of the fabric, which will hide absolutely nothing when he puts it on). In short, it's exactly in his ballpark, and the smirk he shoots to the butcher is positively diabolical.
"You know me very well," he purrs, sidling out of his lap so he might tug his existing shirt over his head to discard it. "This is very thoughtful, thank you," he croons, tail curling up with affection before he slips into the new garment. And so, turning with the blazing fire at his back and sheer gold wrapped about his slender form, he spreads his hands. "And what is the verdict?" he wonders.
just to sit outside your door
