tell me what you need

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

Sighing a little sound of relief when Danta’s hand makes it into his hair, Astaroth’s shoulders seem to loosen that much more, even as he’s forced to look inward to think about what did stop him. Yes, he’d woken up, and perhaps it had simply been coincidence or perhaps it had been some other portion of his subconscious too attached to Danta to actually let that happen. The reasons why seem to go out the window, though, too tough to look at. “Perhaps.” He says as an end all be all, before he shakes his head minutely, a shiver racing down his spine caused by the hand toying with the shorter strands of his dark hair at the nape of his neck.

“Noooooo.” Astaroth complains in a purely dramatic and childish hum that is broken up with a soft snort and a huff of a laugh, surprising enough for the butcher. It’s said in a tone similarly enough to nOt My RePuTaTiOn that he’s sure it gets the point across. Especially as Danta continues to comment on bedroom antics and the butcher snorts lightly, shifting his head so that he can squint up at the Maverick curiously. “And cows, evidently.”

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //