you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
It is more akin to being a violent hobby, so he doesn’t correct — if anything he simply lets the Maverick nestle in further as he focuses more on the next subject, over whether or not he would even want to return. Danta makes a good point, though, that things were different because centuries had passed. What he knew to be a particular good area might have not even been on the most recent Whitebrim’s radar. “Well, if it is ever an option, I would love it if you came with me.” He tests the words out, as if debating them as they pour from his lips, before the hand at his mouth and cheek is lifting to thread through still quite soft hair, brushing against the smooth obsidian of his horn.
He leans into the touch, dark eyes watching as Danta’s nose wrinkles – which is fair, he supposes, but he’d only felt it necessary to ask if Danta was so intrigued by the butcher’s own past. And given what he thought he knew about the Maverick once upon a time, well, those have proven to be false for the most part. Either that, or orchestrated by someone else. So he’d rather hear it from Danta’s own lips before letting his judgement cloud his way.
Even if Danta didn’t feel like talking about it.
So he nods as the blonde starts – familiar enough with the Climb to know what it might be like for a kid – but as Danta continues, a soft frown tugs on his face where there typically was a smile. “Mm, well, I did not have real parents either.” There’s some commonality there, at the very least, even if he never had to go hungry in his youth. It was only when he’d gotten older that his portions or allotments for food became more and more spaced out – but it all depended on how well the trackers and scouts before him did their jobs.
Shifting a little and tugging Danta with him, he snags the bottle of white rum, hoisting it in a small little toast. “Here’s to… Figuring this out all on our own?” He shoots Danta a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood a little, even going so far as to offer the first sip of their little toast to the blonde before he takes his own sip.
He leans into the touch, dark eyes watching as Danta’s nose wrinkles – which is fair, he supposes, but he’d only felt it necessary to ask if Danta was so intrigued by the butcher’s own past. And given what he thought he knew about the Maverick once upon a time, well, those have proven to be false for the most part. Either that, or orchestrated by someone else. So he’d rather hear it from Danta’s own lips before letting his judgement cloud his way.
Even if Danta didn’t feel like talking about it.
So he nods as the blonde starts – familiar enough with the Climb to know what it might be like for a kid – but as Danta continues, a soft frown tugs on his face where there typically was a smile. “Mm, well, I did not have real parents either.” There’s some commonality there, at the very least, even if he never had to go hungry in his youth. It was only when he’d gotten older that his portions or allotments for food became more and more spaced out – but it all depended on how well the trackers and scouts before him did their jobs.
Shifting a little and tugging Danta with him, he snags the bottle of white rum, hoisting it in a small little toast. “Here’s to… Figuring this out all on our own?” He shoots Danta a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood a little, even going so far as to offer the first sip of their little toast to the blonde before he takes his own sip.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
