Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“Do not think about that too much.” Astaroth warns playfully, but the sharp smile on his face remains in the fact of the rage room still on its way to completion. And with it, the butcher is quite content to stay out of too disastrous situations for that much longer. He wants to be able to use the rage room, after all. It’s enough to keep him from becoming reckless. (And Danta, of course, but he still won’t quite admit it unless he’s plastered.)
Anyway, pulling away from the kiss to hear the sweet yeah, only to be met with the quip and affectionate grin – it surprises the butcher enough to let a laugh escape him, rolling his eyes again as he untangles himself from the blonde to get started on it. “We shall see, won’t we?” Because he’d have to be dead before he believes that Danta would abide by the helping manner. He knows enough about him to expect some amount of sabotage with whatever it is he does.
So, picking the box up to nearly his height where it had been stacked, the butcher pops it open and pulls out a multitude of hangers, so that when he pops open the flap of the second box beneath it he can pull out the waistcoats and less ornate vests to hang, setting them aside for the moment. He’s on his third one before he pulls out a vibrant red one and his lips quirk in nostalgia as he tilts his head toward Danta while he hangs it. “I purchased this one right after you woke me and abandoned me.” He whines playfully, before he slides his dark gaze over toward the Maverick.
Anyway, pulling away from the kiss to hear the sweet yeah, only to be met with the quip and affectionate grin – it surprises the butcher enough to let a laugh escape him, rolling his eyes again as he untangles himself from the blonde to get started on it. “We shall see, won’t we?” Because he’d have to be dead before he believes that Danta would abide by the helping manner. He knows enough about him to expect some amount of sabotage with whatever it is he does.
So, picking the box up to nearly his height where it had been stacked, the butcher pops it open and pulls out a multitude of hangers, so that when he pops open the flap of the second box beneath it he can pull out the waistcoats and less ornate vests to hang, setting them aside for the moment. He’s on his third one before he pulls out a vibrant red one and his lips quirk in nostalgia as he tilts his head toward Danta while he hangs it. “I purchased this one right after you woke me and abandoned me.” He whines playfully, before he slides his dark gaze over toward the Maverick.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
