bang bang bang

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Different bodies, same pea brain," Danta agrees ruefully, smirking across at his crumpled shirt that Moira is currently using as a nest, before his focus promptly returns to Astaroth. "She's more of a fan of peanuts than I am, though." The Maverick's instincts might be avian, but his tastes remain quite similar as a gore crow. (That and the idea of a corvid sipping a cocktail is a funny one to say the least). Still, he imagines Asta goes more down the raw strips of flesh route when it comes to his preferences - which, not wrong, but not as reassuring either.

"Are you going to make trinkets with them?" he wonders of the feathers, his smile softening as he withdraws from the kiss to let his forehead rest against the butcher's. "Good," he says quietly, gentle fingers strumming up between Asta's shoulders to play against the back of his neck, tangling gently in his dark locks. "Ah, food - I did happen to order some when I was downstairs."

Straightening up and peeping over Asta's shoulder, he smiles towards the open door where a tray of food and a bottle of wine has indeed been left surreptitiously for them. (Most likely when the butcher had been fussing over Danta while he napped in his shift). "Shall we?"

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door