// with our one foot in the grave //
It doesn’t go as well as the butcher had hoped it would, and quite grumpily he’s resigned to holding his mug and sipping from it to soothe a still somewhat sore throat. He withdraws with a sigh and a roll of his eyes to the Maverick’s teasing, but is relieved as the other Ancient’s arm slips around his shoulders and shifts him upright and Astaroth is limp enough to put all of his focus into making sure the coffee doesn’t spill.
They get there though, and he takes another sip from the coffee once they’ve stopped moving and Danta’s retrieved his own. “I may be low, but I am not that low.” Comes the grumpiness as it sighs past his lips, but his horned head does tilt a fraction into Danta’s shoulder, careful to make sure his horns don’t smack into the side of the blonde’s head. “I simply need to stretch out first.” Or take a bath in the fireplace, provided he could even get there first.
They get there though, and he takes another sip from the coffee once they’ve stopped moving and Danta’s retrieved his own. “I may be low, but I am not that low.” Comes the grumpiness as it sighs past his lips, but his horned head does tilt a fraction into Danta’s shoulder, careful to make sure his horns don’t smack into the side of the blonde’s head. “I simply need to stretch out first.” Or take a bath in the fireplace, provided he could even get there first.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
