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
A brow lifts toward Danta even as the butcher remains in place, arms propped on the edge of the cart, blinking up at him as the Maverick’s hand ghosts and traces along the edge of his jaw. Hearing the meaning of the words and feeling the light smacks against his cheek, Asta huffs a laugh, sharp teeth on display in a grin as he rolls his eyes. “Tallest, does not the strongest, make.” He drawls before he snaps his sharp teeth toward the hand that has just been smacking his cheek.
He withdraws more fully, though, arms lowering to grab the handles of the cart again, teeth gritting as he starts to push the cart again, much slower going due to the weight of both the slab of obsidian and the Maverick on the cart. He pauses after a few minutes, stopping to catch his breath and pin the Theocrat with a raised brow. “What do I receive out of this deal?” He asks with a tilt to his head and a saccharine and sharp smirk.
He withdraws more fully, though, arms lowering to grab the handles of the cart again, teeth gritting as he starts to push the cart again, much slower going due to the weight of both the slab of obsidian and the Maverick on the cart. He pauses after a few minutes, stopping to catch his breath and pin the Theocrat with a raised brow. “What do I receive out of this deal?” He asks with a tilt to his head and a saccharine and sharp smirk.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
