// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
Already familiar with the intricacies of Sohalia and Koa thanks to their night trip on the Sugar Tide, Asta’s dark gaze does still slip toward them to in fact put their faces to their names. It’s only brief, though, because Danta’s gently squeezing his knee again and he leans in a touch more because obviously they understood.
Snorting to hear Danta’s plans to become Cupid, the butcher’s gaze flits briefly from Vesper, Caly, and Nova at the bar before swinging immediately back onto Flora as his tail brushes against her leg. “I admittedly adore the healing fountain.” Asta says with a soft chuckle, a shrug of his shoulder as he sips deeply from the first Pina colada, sliding the empty glass away as the liquor flames in his gut in a mixture of sweet, mischievous decisions.
Humming a note, the butcher nods and offers his dramatic laments, horned head tilting opposite of Danta so his horns can’t collide with the Maverick’s as he peers over at Flora, the flat portion of his spaded tail pressing against her calf. “There is no harm in rewriting that night, wouldn’t you say?” He murmurs, flashing Flora and Danta his sharp smirk as he mirrors Flora’s own bouncing brows with a raise of his own, his free hand slipping around Danta’s shoulders. "Perhaps it may even be preferred?"
Snorting to hear Danta’s plans to become Cupid, the butcher’s gaze flits briefly from Vesper, Caly, and Nova at the bar before swinging immediately back onto Flora as his tail brushes against her leg. “I admittedly adore the healing fountain.” Asta says with a soft chuckle, a shrug of his shoulder as he sips deeply from the first Pina colada, sliding the empty glass away as the liquor flames in his gut in a mixture of sweet, mischievous decisions.
Humming a note, the butcher nods and offers his dramatic laments, horned head tilting opposite of Danta so his horns can’t collide with the Maverick’s as he peers over at Flora, the flat portion of his spaded tail pressing against her calf. “There is no harm in rewriting that night, wouldn’t you say?” He murmurs, flashing Flora and Danta his sharp smirk as he mirrors Flora’s own bouncing brows with a raise of his own, his free hand slipping around Danta’s shoulders. "Perhaps it may even be preferred?"
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
