hold you to the light, let you shine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Now I wouldn't go that far," Danta purrs - all seasons implies that he's been thinking of something that might keep the butcher warm or comfortable or at all prepared for the weather, which... have you met the Maverick? Asta is more likely to emerge wearing a ball gag and something that wishes it was underwear. Ahem - anyway.

It's the first time he's visited the tailor in a very long while, such that he's very easily distracted by the fabrics on offer, by the designs that look ever-so-much like the things Asta wears or would like to wear, and with the tailor himself so overjoyed by their presence, it's clear that if nothing else, at least one place in the Grounds is very pleased that they are living here.

Following them out into the boutique and eyeing up the plush lounge, Danta is about to take a seat before he's reminded, all of a sudden, that he is the designer in all of this. With something akin to excitement dancing in his blue eyes, he ushers the tailor to one side while Asta prepares himself, clearly not wanting the butcher to overhear.

There are a few oohs and aaahs and some scribbling and sketching, as well as a suggestion for buckles and other ties, before both Maverick and tailor return, each looking pleased as punch. "Alright, let's do this," he decides, flopping onto the couch for some well-earned ogling.

Dantalion