in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
Battering back his own feelings (confusing as they are to tease through, let alone admit) in lieu of not wanting to be... er, smited? smitten? smote by the Doubletake and her demigodly cohort, Danta pauses on the way into the inn, stood in the doorway and conveniently leaving Asta out in the rain for a few extra seconds as he replies. "But do you want it to be?" he asks. Official, he means. "And if you don't, does Flora know that?"
Holding the butcher's dark gaze for a fraction longer, perhaps, than is necessary, eventually Danta does turn and duck through the doorway properly, shoving up the muddy sleeves of his shirt and adjusting his bag on his shoulder before heading straight to the bar to hopefully procure some rooms - plural - for them. Asta might be fine with being dumb as a stick in all matters outside of causing pain, but Danta quite likes being alive.
Holding the butcher's dark gaze for a fraction longer, perhaps, than is necessary, eventually Danta does turn and duck through the doorway properly, shoving up the muddy sleeves of his shirt and adjusting his bag on his shoulder before heading straight to the bar to hopefully procure some rooms - plural - for them. Asta might be fine with being dumb as a stick in all matters outside of causing pain, but Danta quite likes being alive.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
