I told you, you were brave

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

"Next time," Danta confirms, smirking into Asta's shoulder and letting himself stand and enjoy the stillness and the silence between them, unmarred by things left unsaid or feelings shoved down so deep they're standing on them. The laughter, at least, has him raising an eyebrow, though as the other man explains he supposes he can appreciate his trepidation. "A good point. Maybe I'll just surprise her with things and not explain what they're for," he suggests; it's chaotic enough that he might just get away with it.

"I'm glad, though, that we didn't lose her as a friend." Something he'd have balked at even a few seasons ago, but just as being forced to admit his feelings for the butcher has cracked Danta open to the idea of affection, it's brought along with it the idea of not having to be alone in general. "C'mon. We're both wearing far too many clothes for this time of night." Ushering the other man back towards the bed, the Maverick's hands glide softly over the dark grey suit jacket, intending to unbutton it and push it back over Asta's shoulders.

Dantalion

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