reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
“I half expect you to say yes.” Astaroth boldly claims, though looking nevertheless put off by it. Not as he can get the Maverick to laugh, to smile, anything but this… Strange, knotted up person he sees. So of course, he cuts right to the chase, head cocking slightly to rest his cheek against the arm that settles across his shoulders, taking another drag as he listens, the cherry of the pipe sparking red and illuminating their faces for a brief moment before he exhales out plume – this time, not in Danta’s face of vicinity.
Not that he thinks the blonde would mind, of course.
But he listens, and truly focuses on the thoughts that come out of the Theocrat, and he knows all too well what it’s like to be so prepared and itching for a fight, only for the flame to go out in a whispering blow. It feels frustrating, like one’s insides are bouncing around a helpless cage with no sign of freedom in sight. Bottled up and caught.
He clears his throat and his hand stills a little before it twitches into a possessive sort of hold over the other man’s hip. “I think that you need to relieve some of this tension.” Otherwise, the butcher imagines it’ll hit a little too close to the traumas the Maverick endured in the Climb. “That being said, we can fight out your frustrations, or,” pausing as he arches a brow and continues that cool and aloof façade. “Perhaps you can enact your deal with me from Levinsward, Dantalion.” For the Butcher to make it up to him.
Either way, Astaroth fully intended on getting rid of whatever was tearing him up inside.
Not that he thinks the blonde would mind, of course.
But he listens, and truly focuses on the thoughts that come out of the Theocrat, and he knows all too well what it’s like to be so prepared and itching for a fight, only for the flame to go out in a whispering blow. It feels frustrating, like one’s insides are bouncing around a helpless cage with no sign of freedom in sight. Bottled up and caught.
He clears his throat and his hand stills a little before it twitches into a possessive sort of hold over the other man’s hip. “I think that you need to relieve some of this tension.” Otherwise, the butcher imagines it’ll hit a little too close to the traumas the Maverick endured in the Climb. “That being said, we can fight out your frustrations, or,” pausing as he arches a brow and continues that cool and aloof façade. “Perhaps you can enact your deal with me from Levinsward, Dantalion.” For the Butcher to make it up to him.
Either way, Astaroth fully intended on getting rid of whatever was tearing him up inside.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
