reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am
The Maverick knows him very well. Though it isn’t as if Asta questioned it - half the time he thought he wanted something, Danta was already well aware of the fact. It’s sweet in a way that Asta doesn’t know just how to handle, to be seen so deeply, but appreciative of the fact regardless as he bids his lover a momentary goodbye with a nod and a smile so that he might go and secure their drinks.
In the time Danta is gone, the butcher collects a plush extra large towel, adorned in swirling designs of teal and navy blue - like ocean grasses curling toward the surface, and a parasol to match. Hoisting the parasol over his shoulder, the towel in arm, he turns back to see his lover return with a flask amongst the two drinks.
For a moment, he does think its full of harder liquor, and even Danta’s words don’t register that its Torchline fountain water - because if you gave the butcher enough alcohol at this present moment he might forget about his split lip in both pain and appearance. “How very thoughtful of you, Danta darling.” The butcher purrs with a laugh, stepping away from the merchant he’d been dealing with, items in hand as he nods toward the expanse of beach. “What did you get?” He asks in reference to the daiquiri in his lover’s hand, prowling onto the hot sand in search for the perfect prime real estate to spread the towel onto.
Once he has, the parasol is set down and the towel is tossed out so that the edges float in the brief sea-slick breeze, before landing in a perfect large and warm rectangle before he’s popping open the parasol to set it above the towel, casting shade down upon the middle section of the towel to keep the sun from directly bearing down on them. Only then does he turn around to collect the Pina colada he very desperately has wanted to try.
In the time Danta is gone, the butcher collects a plush extra large towel, adorned in swirling designs of teal and navy blue - like ocean grasses curling toward the surface, and a parasol to match. Hoisting the parasol over his shoulder, the towel in arm, he turns back to see his lover return with a flask amongst the two drinks.
For a moment, he does think its full of harder liquor, and even Danta’s words don’t register that its Torchline fountain water - because if you gave the butcher enough alcohol at this present moment he might forget about his split lip in both pain and appearance. “How very thoughtful of you, Danta darling.” The butcher purrs with a laugh, stepping away from the merchant he’d been dealing with, items in hand as he nods toward the expanse of beach. “What did you get?” He asks in reference to the daiquiri in his lover’s hand, prowling onto the hot sand in search for the perfect prime real estate to spread the towel onto.
Once he has, the parasol is set down and the towel is tossed out so that the edges float in the brief sea-slick breeze, before landing in a perfect large and warm rectangle before he’s popping open the parasol to set it above the towel, casting shade down upon the middle section of the towel to keep the sun from directly bearing down on them. Only then does he turn around to collect the Pina colada he very desperately has wanted to try.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
