// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //
The tailor wants nothing more than to hear all the praises Danta has to offer, and so he works with precision and pride, crafting the Maverick’s vision as close to truth as possible. And Astaroth is as perfect of a model as can be, moving wherever way the tailor needs, standing still as can be whenever required. And when the leather comes out, the tailor already has the measurements down – shrinking them here and there to get it exactly as moveable and tight as Danta wishes, utilizing his magic and craft to work on finishing them up for him to try on while the Maverick grasps the butcher’s jaw and inspects it.
Asta’s gaze dips to meet those bright blues, the hand still smelling of smoke and citrus that cups his bearded jaw, and it’s light the lightbulb goes off with the intensity of which Danta’s focused on the bottom half of his face. “A muzzle?” He nearly half whispers, raising a dark brow as to not mess with the inspection the other Ancient is in the process of doing. And shortly after the statement is made, the tailor is handing him those tight pants and telling him to go slip them on.
Flashing a too sharp smile with a hint of confusion in it, he reaches up and ghosts a touch along Danta’s sharp cheekbone before he does just that – returning with pants that truthfully leave little to the imagination and the shirt paired with – cutting a menacingly sexy figure. “Was it your intention to have these so tight?” He asks, despite knowing the answer already, dark eyes glimmering with a hint of amusement as he returns to the podium, ready for the next step.
Asta’s gaze dips to meet those bright blues, the hand still smelling of smoke and citrus that cups his bearded jaw, and it’s light the lightbulb goes off with the intensity of which Danta’s focused on the bottom half of his face. “A muzzle?” He nearly half whispers, raising a dark brow as to not mess with the inspection the other Ancient is in the process of doing. And shortly after the statement is made, the tailor is handing him those tight pants and telling him to go slip them on.
Flashing a too sharp smile with a hint of confusion in it, he reaches up and ghosts a touch along Danta’s sharp cheekbone before he does just that – returning with pants that truthfully leave little to the imagination and the shirt paired with – cutting a menacingly sexy figure. “Was it your intention to have these so tight?” He asks, despite knowing the answer already, dark eyes glimmering with a hint of amusement as he returns to the podium, ready for the next step.
Astaroth
// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //
