// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //
Learnt from the previous mistakes, the butcher does wait. He waits as he listens to the muffled sounds from the other side, fully expecting a trio of people at the very least to come scurrying out when Danta opens the door. But, there is nothing to be found aside from the feather that Asta locks eyes on, reaching up to brush it away so it falls to the floor without so much as a hi.
He steps in, sets the glasses and bottle down, takes a look at the hobbies laid out before prodding the ball of yarn. “Is this a scarf? Or… a hat?” He asks initially before Danta’s question has him sighing and sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, puzzle pieces scattering with the movement as his tail flicks in annoyance.
He sighs and reaches for a glass and the bottle to pour himself a large sip. “I was compared to someone I threw out downstairs who was trying to assault Maea and who threw a fit when getting removed and attacked multiple patrons and workers.” He says bluntly, then downs the contents of his glass and goes to pour into it again. “I do understand that I am a certain type of monster, but gods.” Not that kind. Never that kind.
He steps in, sets the glasses and bottle down, takes a look at the hobbies laid out before prodding the ball of yarn. “Is this a scarf? Or… a hat?” He asks initially before Danta’s question has him sighing and sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed, puzzle pieces scattering with the movement as his tail flicks in annoyance.
He sighs and reaches for a glass and the bottle to pour himself a large sip. “I was compared to someone I threw out downstairs who was trying to assault Maea and who threw a fit when getting removed and attacked multiple patrons and workers.” He says bluntly, then downs the contents of his glass and goes to pour into it again. “I do understand that I am a certain type of monster, but gods.” Not that kind. Never that kind.
Astaroth
// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //
