steal a moment of your time

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

He honestly should have expected the pocket mirror to be from Flora – given that he’s seen it in action before – and yet the butcher had a bit too much alcohol that night and he certainly hadn’t thought about where it came from ever since then. But his lips do quirk up with amusement to hear that she never would’ve guessed it, because that was practically the point it seemed. Flora pulled it off and she pulled it off well.

Toasting in agreement to hear that she’ll seek her out the next time she’s in Torchline, Asta takes an easy sip of the bourbon, letting it melt on his tongue in tastes of sweet caramel, oak, and cinnamon. Quite a lovely blend if you ask him.

But as his secrecy continues, he hears her light chuckle and his own accompanies it, inclining his horned head in agreement. “I am quite good at my job, darling.” He teases, enough that his sharp grin is on display again before he leans back, ashen tail flicking lightly from where it’s wound against the chair leg.

“Seeing as the important bits are out of the way, how have you been? Has the Marauder had any excitement recently?” Giving her his utmost attention, it’s clear he’s curious to know how it is as her friend as opposed to any other kind of influence.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart