so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
“Truthfully? No and no, darling.” Astaroth hums with a soft laugh before it melds into letting his sharp smile curl a bit more genuine at the compliment. Because whether or not Danta meant it that way, that’s precisely how the butcher intends to take it. And while he tries so hard to focus on getting the book open and ready and ignore the fight regardless of how desperately Astaroth wants to watch it, he doesn’t – instead fumbling and fiddling to open to page one when the panther explodes.
Danta jumps and barks a laugh and Astaroth’s attention flits so fast toward the panther and his touch heavier against the Maverick as if it might keep them still in case the panther decided to dodge this way. But as it stands, the fight is indeed over and he huffs out a breathy laugh, humming a note of agreement.
“I shall send it to the Atheneum.” Of the complaint, that is, because as he reaches the first page he isn’t sure what they’re about to read – but he certainly hopes it’s murder too.
He clears his throat and begins to read, immediately painting the picture of a sunny vista that appears as if nothing is wrong or out of place, before it descends into the bowels of the house to a labyrinth of tunnels, where the book picks up immediately with a fight. A hand to hand fight, initially, fists flying, noses breaking, blood pouring from the crack of the man’s nose – who’s currently ripping a pipe out of the wall to bonk the other man with (which receives a dark laugh from the butcher), before he continues to spin the tale.
Danta jumps and barks a laugh and Astaroth’s attention flits so fast toward the panther and his touch heavier against the Maverick as if it might keep them still in case the panther decided to dodge this way. But as it stands, the fight is indeed over and he huffs out a breathy laugh, humming a note of agreement.
“I shall send it to the Atheneum.” Of the complaint, that is, because as he reaches the first page he isn’t sure what they’re about to read – but he certainly hopes it’s murder too.
He clears his throat and begins to read, immediately painting the picture of a sunny vista that appears as if nothing is wrong or out of place, before it descends into the bowels of the house to a labyrinth of tunnels, where the book picks up immediately with a fight. A hand to hand fight, initially, fists flying, noses breaking, blood pouring from the crack of the man’s nose – who’s currently ripping a pipe out of the wall to bonk the other man with (which receives a dark laugh from the butcher), before he continues to spin the tale.
Astaroth
you know what's on the line
