I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice; Imagine being loved by me.
Lost is one way to put it, Fox's brow furrowing and his gloved hands sliding into the pockets of his thick coat as he commits to one boutique in particular - only for a shadow to fall across him. It would be insulting to Ancients to say that it's Asta's racial characteristics that have a shiver of unease locking the hunter's spine - his own horns are on full display, after all, protruding through his mussed, chestnut hair, his tail swaying low at his heels as well.
But there's something that has his jaw tightening despite the other man's impeccable dress and polite charm (it's because he's a monster and you're a monster hunter, Fox, don't be coy) and he glances up to the stranger especially as his own name falls from his lips. "I am, yes," he rumbles, politely enough. "Do we know each other...?"
As for what he's looking for, he clears his throat and nods to the window before them. "A satchel," he says quietly. "I was going to see a leather worker about one, I think. I can't find anything in the displays that fits what I'm looking for."
But there's something that has his jaw tightening despite the other man's impeccable dress and polite charm (it's because he's a monster and you're a monster hunter, Fox, don't be coy) and he glances up to the stranger especially as his own name falls from his lips. "I am, yes," he rumbles, politely enough. "Do we know each other...?"
As for what he's looking for, he clears his throat and nods to the window before them. "A satchel," he says quietly. "I was going to see a leather worker about one, I think. I can't find anything in the displays that fits what I'm looking for."
Fox Sinclair
Horns: Small, bone-like protrusions (aka your stereotypical devil horns) that are easy to miss in his hair.
