you tell me it feels a little colder

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

Never having experienced romantic for himself, of course Danta's thoughts aren't painted that way, but he does agree that the low lighting, their close proximity and the splashes of colour and muffled sound through the window makes for a very intimate setting. "Is that what they call them?" He grins; magician has a fairly nice ring to it. "I would have said charlatan, though I suppose if he's an Abandoned he does have true magic at his fingertips. I'd say he's got a touch of illusion there too." If the way the fireworks are now changing shape and texture have anything to say about it, anyway.

Shifting ever so slightly to get more comfortable and nosing against the butcher's temple, the Maverick's sneaky fingers to emerge from the blanket soon enough if for no other reason than to tease Asta's dark locks back behind his horns where they belong, smoothing through his hair in gentle strokes. "Oh," he says suddenly, sounding almost as though they need to speak quietly in case the person hears, "I know that man - he used to work in a cocktail bar down the other end of the Whisper. They fired him because he kept bringing luxere behind the bar. Said they wanted to hear him sing."

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //