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
It’s the confusion that really sticks it’s barbs into him and Astaroth has nothing really to respond with aside from a “yes, you do own a brothel,” because that was a fact. As for the comment made of whether it was directly in front of him? He huffs a sound that’s a humorless laugh, smoke billowing from his lips in a haze that blots out his face momentarily. Evidently he’d been so caught up he hadn’t noticed the way the butcher had slipped across the room before the blonde and his partner for the night had vanished.
But, he isn’t sure whether he can bite his tongue again if it continues, so he flashes Danta a smile — one that has all sharp teeth on display and a touch too toothy to be genuine, one that the Maverick would know to be a mask as it quickly slides into place. “It’s fine, just forget about it.” He starts to say, popping the mouthpiece of the pipe back into his mouth, looking away from Danta as the bowl of the pipe glows a vibrant red and orange as he drags off of it, letting the smoke mingle in his mouth as he hears Danta continue.
And while he’d rather continue this mask of silence, there’s something specific about it that has his gaze drifting back over toward the ruffled Maverick. He very pointedly does not respond to the latter tidbit, about how often they each preferred to blow off steam. “I did not mind before because it was only pretty obvious. And any time I thought perhaps admitting such things meant that you would hide away, I figured it was for the best.” Because Danta, you weren’t mine back then. “Call it petty jealousy. I would just prefer it if you did not do it while I was in line of sight. Otherwise I do not care.” His hand lifts, gesturing loosely, he turns away again, taking a large sip of the whiskey to try and continue to soothe those dark, murderous thoughts, or how he still does care, even if he’s trying really hard to be rational about it.
But, he isn’t sure whether he can bite his tongue again if it continues, so he flashes Danta a smile — one that has all sharp teeth on display and a touch too toothy to be genuine, one that the Maverick would know to be a mask as it quickly slides into place. “It’s fine, just forget about it.” He starts to say, popping the mouthpiece of the pipe back into his mouth, looking away from Danta as the bowl of the pipe glows a vibrant red and orange as he drags off of it, letting the smoke mingle in his mouth as he hears Danta continue.
And while he’d rather continue this mask of silence, there’s something specific about it that has his gaze drifting back over toward the ruffled Maverick. He very pointedly does not respond to the latter tidbit, about how often they each preferred to blow off steam. “I did not mind before because it was only pretty obvious. And any time I thought perhaps admitting such things meant that you would hide away, I figured it was for the best.” Because Danta, you weren’t mine back then. “Call it petty jealousy. I would just prefer it if you did not do it while I was in line of sight. Otherwise I do not care.” His hand lifts, gesturing loosely, he turns away again, taking a large sip of the whiskey to try and continue to soothe those dark, murderous thoughts, or how he still does care, even if he’s trying really hard to be rational about it.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
