in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue
"It is not over half the week," Danta protests. Just Tuesdays through Thursdays, Astaroth. And sometimes on public holidays. He raises an eyebrow to hear the other man's observation, fingers brushing featherlight over the back of his hand as if to wonder why he'd ever want to see it torn and bruised. "You thought wrong," he almost whispers, waiting for the tailor to turn away to head back to the front of the boutique before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.
"Out, mm? How brave of you." Grinning, it's not necessarily because Asta might feel uncomfortable in the outfit, but more because of the number of advances he's about to have to fight off from the Dusklight. Nevertheless the decision is made, and the Maverick offers a bright wave goodbye to the tailor as they leave. "I can see why you enjoy it there so much now," he croons to the butcher, strolling back towards home and feeling very much as if he's accompanied by his head of security now.
"Out, mm? How brave of you." Grinning, it's not necessarily because Asta might feel uncomfortable in the outfit, but more because of the number of advances he's about to have to fight off from the Dusklight. Nevertheless the decision is made, and the Maverick offers a bright wave goodbye to the tailor as they leave. "I can see why you enjoy it there so much now," he croons to the butcher, strolling back towards home and feeling very much as if he's accompanied by his head of security now.
Dantalion
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
