// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //
Already starting to get ready, slipping out of the waistcoat and anything else that might block the perfect measurements (despite how the tailor likely has a record of any changes at this point with how often the butcher shows up on this very podium), he can’t help but to notice how strangely quiet it’s gotten – and as he steps up onto the podium, his attention and body twist partially to look back at the two conspirators.
Dread already settles in his gut, a touch exasperated already to see the bright excitement lingering in the tailors face, and something that glimmers pleased as punch in the Maverick’s own. Affectionately rolling his eyes, he turns back toward the mirror and clears his throat, side eyeing Danta from where he flops down onto the couch. “I wait with bated breath.” Astaroth hums, his tone flat, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his dark irises that makes it seem like he's actually intrigued as to what blasphemy the Maverick wants him to wear.
Shifting a touch to keep his posture just as straight, he listens as the tailor comments on his height as he always does, adjusting the measurements to suit his lanky appearance. Once the measurements are made, the tailor vanishes for a brief moment to retrieve some fabric and already remade adjusted designs and a huge stack of pins to get started pinning things, before gesturing for Danta to approach to see if he has any personal insights. “I would prefer to not be stabbed... Too many times, at least.” The butcher offers to Danta as he shrugs out of his shirt, flashing his own saccharinely sharp smile back.
Dread already settles in his gut, a touch exasperated already to see the bright excitement lingering in the tailors face, and something that glimmers pleased as punch in the Maverick’s own. Affectionately rolling his eyes, he turns back toward the mirror and clears his throat, side eyeing Danta from where he flops down onto the couch. “I wait with bated breath.” Astaroth hums, his tone flat, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his dark irises that makes it seem like he's actually intrigued as to what blasphemy the Maverick wants him to wear.
Shifting a touch to keep his posture just as straight, he listens as the tailor comments on his height as he always does, adjusting the measurements to suit his lanky appearance. Once the measurements are made, the tailor vanishes for a brief moment to retrieve some fabric and already remade adjusted designs and a huge stack of pins to get started pinning things, before gesturing for Danta to approach to see if he has any personal insights. “I would prefer to not be stabbed... Too many times, at least.” The butcher offers to Danta as he shrugs out of his shirt, flashing his own saccharinely sharp smile back.
Astaroth
// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //
