[SE] or christ, hold me like a knife

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

"I have let you put a good number on me over the years, yes," Danta fires right back, a shit-eating grin on his face now even as his fingers brush across the other man's bearded cheek. "So it only seems fair to let you have another try." His smile fades but doesn't disappear entirely as Asta's hand tugs at his forearm, and the Maverick rises to his feet to wriggle out of his pants obligingly.

"Mm, that's what I like to hear," he agrees. "And if it does happen again, I hope that fyrhund shift of yours takes you straight back to the Dusklight without stopping." Clearly it still stings that everything that had taken place had done so when there was fuck all Danta could do about it, and though his brow furrows at the memory, the expression melts into a reluctant sort of bliss as he sinks into the water as well.

All but blanketing Asta with his body, the Maverick's arms shift to drape over the edge of the tub where he can play with the tips of the other man's dark hair. "I plan to ask her why she hurt my friend," he says honestly, eyes flat. "And where, in all her preaching kindness and compassion, did it give her the right to do that to you."

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //