run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Relieved that there’s no argument or points to be made opposite of it, the butcher relaxes tenfold under the weight of his lover’s attention. “It’s not like you’d get anywhere fast if you did decide to leave.” Another point to the fact Asta has tucked himself away, is the fact the jest doesn’t have him panicking in the slightest. There’s just that cold gleam in his eyes that remains as such even as they close and reopen with the familiar press of Danta’s forehead against his.
“Chai sounds great.” He hums, withdrawing and letting Danta take the pills dry so he can go and prepare the tea. It doesn’t take long, but by the time he returns it’s with the kettle and tea and two cups — Danta’s and the butcher’s own, still just as terribly sweet. He doesn’t remain long, one handed motions make it difficult to bring everything over all at once. So as Danta relaxes, Asta sets everything out, slipping toward the door as it opens and some food is brought in on a tray. A few murmured words to the bartender are all that’s left between them before the bartenders bringing the tray in to set it on the low coffee table.
Once he’s stepped out, Asta has vanished, rummaging one handed through a drawer in their den. Returning out to sit beside his lover on the couch, he sets the golden, metal muzzle on the coffee table as a preemptive protection, along with the bottle of sedatives. “I’m going to need help getting that on later.” He says, nodding to the muzzle. “I won’t go to sleep without it.” There’s no room for argument.
“Chai sounds great.” He hums, withdrawing and letting Danta take the pills dry so he can go and prepare the tea. It doesn’t take long, but by the time he returns it’s with the kettle and tea and two cups — Danta’s and the butcher’s own, still just as terribly sweet. He doesn’t remain long, one handed motions make it difficult to bring everything over all at once. So as Danta relaxes, Asta sets everything out, slipping toward the door as it opens and some food is brought in on a tray. A few murmured words to the bartender are all that’s left between them before the bartenders bringing the tray in to set it on the low coffee table.
Once he’s stepped out, Asta has vanished, rummaging one handed through a drawer in their den. Returning out to sit beside his lover on the couch, he sets the golden, metal muzzle on the coffee table as a preemptive protection, along with the bottle of sedatives. “I’m going to need help getting that on later.” He says, nodding to the muzzle. “I won’t go to sleep without it.” There’s no room for argument.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
