you tell me it feels a little colder

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

"Mmhm," Danta confirms, carefully reaching over the other man's shoulder to set the muzzle down on the bedside table. "Mid-morning, by the sound of the street outside." And by the creaks and rumbles from downstairs that suggest the bar staff are already at work preparing to open the Dusklight for business.

Laughing at the complaint he really ought to have expected by now, Danta lets his arms curl around the other man's shoulders, enjoying the simple warmth and comfort of being able to wake in their own time. "I tell you what - next time we'll put it in some really sweet tea and see if that makes a difference." If it didn't it of course means there'll be more of the vile concoction to drink, but there's no reward without risk, so they say.

Stretching contently against the arms that come to squeeze around him, the Maverick peers down at Asta through cool blue eyes that are also still only half-awake. "Good morning," he purrs in return, leaning in to press his forehead against the butcher's, gently clasping his cheek. "If I suggested right now that we pack up and get away from this place for a few days, what would you say?"

Dantalion

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