[ME] one shot, two shot, coppertone-red

// you've got your finger on the trigger //

He watches as his words sink in and she slinks away, and some satisfaction burns like oil for the fire in his chest that had grown to hear her voice through what should be a beautiful party for Flora. So his arm tightens around Danta’s and they slip away, and when his lover’s voice hits his hears it’s with a huff of a surprised laugh that his fingertips press in a little against Danta’s side. “I am fairly certain I can manage that.” The butcher hums, the alcohol giving him all the bolstered indulgence he needs for the moment as they find their seats.

They aren’t left alone for long and while the Maverick orders several pina coladas (he loves you for it, Danta), the butcher peers over at the woman of the hour as she slides in beside them. Shifting so that he’s closer to Danta, pinning him in between the butcher and Doubletake as he leans in to offer his very vibrant conspiracy. “Darling Danta told me not to ruin your night.” Comes the accented hum, but the look in his gaze is one surprisingly full of mischief and playfulness, fully ignoring the fuckery that just occurred so he can drown it out with the promise of pineapple, rum, and coconut cream. “So let us celebrate you instead, yes?” He asks, an additional bolstering request to the want to join us that had left the Maverick’s lips.

Astaroth

// but your trigger finger's mine //