laps up the vice like a wolf in the night

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

Don't, Danta nearly says as Asta draws closer, craving the safety of solitude previously only afforded to him in small doses in The Climb. But they won't be in The Climb for much longer, and the Maverick fidgets with one of his scarlet sleeves, finding a loose thread to yank at and unravel as his blue eyes try to focus anywhere but on the butcher's face. "Me neither," he admits of his bloodlust. "Things... kept coming up." Longnight, Maea, the Levinsward, Maea again, the wicker woman, this...

Raking a bloody hand back through bloodier hair, Danta feels his throat close around the words he wants to say. It hurts being around you right now or I can't do this or I didn't tell you those things about me so you could hurt me with them. But, and although neither man is likely aware of it, Asta's pleas form the perfect storm of guilty manipulation guaranteed to bring the Maverick to heel in his current state,, and his shoulders slump almost in defeat as he turns back to face the other man.

"Not tonight, then," he whispers, trailing back towards him to close the distance between them. What tomorrow brings is another story, but for tonight Danta's hands are firm but gentle as he tries to ease Asta's arms down away from his chest so he might replace them with himself.

Dantalion