laps up the vice like a wolf in the night

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Danta could lie and say he doesn't know which comment in particular makes him see red, but they both know which it is, and the comparison to his lifelong tormentor has the colour rising high in his cheeks and tension rippling through his body from head to toe. "Oh, fuck you," he snarls, and the second Asta steps forward Danta is already there meeting him. He doesn't know if it's a shove or a tackle that he intends at first - he's too drunk, truthfully, to be able to say - only that he throws himself at the other man with fire at his fingertips and fangs bared.

However they first connect, whether Danta is able to grapple the butcher into the closed door or whether he ends up careening into it himself, the sound of the squabble will thankfully be swallowed up by the noise of the Dusklight downstairs. Not that it matters - the Maverick would fight just as viciously whether people could hear them or not, and it's with snapping teeth and closed fists that he settles into a rhythm as comfortable as it is toxic between himself and the butcher.

Dantalion