lord help anyone who stands in my way; for I am not merciful, and i am not kind
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
“To shower.” He says with all the confidence in the world in the face of Danta’s confusion, leaving him to decide whether or not it was a scent thing or the fact that he’s all ruffled specifically by someone else’s hands. His legs slip from the edge of the desk, boots landing heavily on the floor as he reaches for the bottle to pour another knuckles worth within the glass, before he pops the cork onto the bottle. It’s about that time that Danta decides to cut to the chase.
His gaze flits back toward the Maverick, but he doesn’t answer immediately, formulating his response as he rummages through the drawer to his side, withdrawing the pipe already laden with tobacco, slipping it between his lips as he lights it, wondering if the heavy pull he gives it will help calm him down. “I was under the impression that if you wanted to go and fuck off with someone else it would not be directly in front of me.” His tone edges into more Whitebrim territory as the curse slips from his lips, blanketed by the smoke that falls from them in turn.
But he looks away from Danta shortly after, as if chastising himself enough about it to ignore the fact that looking at him in his ruffled state hurts. “But seeing as we never talked about it, I figured I would keep to myself for the night lest I react poorly.” Hence the fact he’s downing the bottle down here by himself, rather than intending to have this conversation that Danta has opened the door to. So he places the pipe back between his lips if only to metaphorically bite his tongue.
His gaze flits back toward the Maverick, but he doesn’t answer immediately, formulating his response as he rummages through the drawer to his side, withdrawing the pipe already laden with tobacco, slipping it between his lips as he lights it, wondering if the heavy pull he gives it will help calm him down. “I was under the impression that if you wanted to go and fuck off with someone else it would not be directly in front of me.” His tone edges into more Whitebrim territory as the curse slips from his lips, blanketed by the smoke that falls from them in turn.
But he looks away from Danta shortly after, as if chastising himself enough about it to ignore the fact that looking at him in his ruffled state hurts. “But seeing as we never talked about it, I figured I would keep to myself for the night lest I react poorly.” Hence the fact he’s downing the bottle down here by himself, rather than intending to have this conversation that Danta has opened the door to. So he places the pipe back between his lips if only to metaphorically bite his tongue.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
