hold me tight or don't

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

Perhaps it’s the fact of just how not attached Asta had been to it that he doesn’t quite realize it’s a matter of hurt rather than facts. So he hums, nodding a little in agreement before puffing out a soft sigh. “You’re right.” Comes the concession, gaze focusing on the way Danta’s fire reflects off the colorful buildings they pass by toward the Inn.

The subject over dates as well, though, has him glancing back toward the Maverick — thoughts bubbling in his mind immediately, nothing set in stone thanks to the alcohol still buzzing through him (notably less now), but as Danta nudges his shoulder they flit away for later as well.

Instead he tries to think about what third date he agreed to, but he’s too fucked up and the night too out of control to actually parse any of it without a sober mind. “I won’t.” He tells Danta as they reach the door to the inn, his tail brushing against the other man’s calves in a gentle touch. Holding the door open for the other Ancient, he steps in after him. “I’ll figure it out when I’m sober.” Flashing a small too sharp smile toward Danta, he’s content to return to the room where things had begun to spiral.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //