[SE] or christ, hold me like a knife

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

"Yeah? I'll pass your review on to the doctors who made it, shall I?" Danta quips, tilting his head at Asta and trying hard to bite back the smile on his lips; he has limited success. Instead, taking the medicine back and setting it down, the Maverick leaves the curtains open so they might continue to enjoy the light show outside, though he dims all the other sconces. As for the fire, it remains roaring to the point where it might prove stifling for any non-Ancient who enters the room after them, but for here and now, it's more than comfortable.

With all that done, Danta kicks off his shoes and draws his shirt over his head, before hiding a yawn and slipping into bed as well. "A few minutes, I imagine," he murmurs. "I'd hope you'd know when it does." But honestly, Asta will have to be the one to tell the Maverick, given that Danta's dosages are likely to hit instantly given their potency.

Either way, he waits for the butcher to get as comfortable as he can before drawing the blankets over them further. It's with uncharacteristic care that Danta curls around the other man, pressed against his back without applying too much pressure against the stark bruises that blotch his skin.

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //