// with our one foot in the grave //
Infinitely pleased he doesn’t have to explain, the butcher watches as he downs another sip, lowering the glass slightly if only to actually let his lips curl into that bright, too sharp grin. There is a moment where he debates asking whether or not Danta wished to wear it, more than happy to offer his skills in lacing it up along the other man’s neck. But before he can get the words out, the glass is stolen from his hand momentarily and the butcher is huffing a soft laugh instead.
Drifting a bit closer now that the other gift is starting to get broken into, this one’s box is larger. “Quite.” He nearly trills — obviously this is the one he’s most excited about, even if it was wholly at odds with conversations they’d had in the past. Perhaps it’s because of how much he cares about Danta now. Perhaps it’s because he has control over the situation.
Regardless, what is revealed when the box is opened is a smooth metal mask of sorts, glittering and gleaming in the firelight. It’s shaped perfectly to cover and latch the butchers jaw from letting his teeth dig into anything it shouldn’t. A cage of sorts, yet with enough movement to allow him to sleep comfortably and to talk. “What do you think, Danta, darling?” He asks, voice dropping a bit lower as he watches. His hand slips into his pocket and the other lowers the wine glass, dark eyes far too intensely focused on the Maverick’s reaction.
Drifting a bit closer now that the other gift is starting to get broken into, this one’s box is larger. “Quite.” He nearly trills — obviously this is the one he’s most excited about, even if it was wholly at odds with conversations they’d had in the past. Perhaps it’s because of how much he cares about Danta now. Perhaps it’s because he has control over the situation.
Regardless, what is revealed when the box is opened is a smooth metal mask of sorts, glittering and gleaming in the firelight. It’s shaped perfectly to cover and latch the butchers jaw from letting his teeth dig into anything it shouldn’t. A cage of sorts, yet with enough movement to allow him to sleep comfortably and to talk. “What do you think, Danta, darling?” He asks, voice dropping a bit lower as he watches. His hand slips into his pocket and the other lowers the wine glass, dark eyes far too intensely focused on the Maverick’s reaction.
Astaroth
// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //
