[SE] or christ, hold me like a knife

// with our one foot in the grave //

The comment sparks a quiet chuckle, a toothy grin forming as they make their little shapes. “Oh, I did, but it certainly didn’t take all day.” Looking up at Danta, he flashes a wink. Most of his thoughts revolved around Morax anyway, now that he’s thinking about it. Danta was just the grunt to get through to get to her.

But anyway, that’s beside the point, because Danta holds up the square and the whisper in his voice sparks a snort and a tsk of his tongue, reaching out to put Danta’s hand back down to flatten the square. “You’re not done yet, darling. You’re simply making your stomach.” He sighs with an air of dramatic annoyance, showing him right after to pull the corners in at an angle, revealing a sort of cross looking shape, before folding the top down over it and opening those shapes back up to the square as well. Then, reversing said folds, it’s left looking like a diamond with a slit down the center, which, Astaroth already knows a particular comment that might escape the Maverick.

Already prepared to roll his eyes, he pushes through that portion quickly. “Fold the bottom point up and out, and now you have feet.”

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //