and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
“I am not sure, either, if I am being honest.” The butcher admits with a soft snort. His Pina colada is finished, at least, but before he knows it, more shots appear at their table and it hardly takes any encouragement from Danta to get him to down it alongside him - hissing slightly at the burn as it races down his throat. His limbs remain floaty, light and breezy and his inhibitions to making a fool of himself are gone as Danta rises to his feet and he takes a moment to mourn the loss of where he’d been wrapped around his lover.
It doesn’t matter much, though, because they drift into the throng of people, his attention immediately drifting to those already on the dance floor and he realizes with a touch of confusion (and a bit of horror) that he perhaps has made a mistake. At the very least, Asta does have rhythm as he moves, but he doesn’t expect Danta to grind up against him and tug him further into the crowd, until they’re essentially surrounded.
It’s a mixture of the alcohol and the surprise that has his cheeks flooding with heat, a rare occurrence from the butcher but one on full display, he does his best to return the favor with a breathy laugh at himself and far too much attention at keeping his tail from getting trampled on or wrapped around a stranger.
It doesn’t matter much, though, because they drift into the throng of people, his attention immediately drifting to those already on the dance floor and he realizes with a touch of confusion (and a bit of horror) that he perhaps has made a mistake. At the very least, Asta does have rhythm as he moves, but he doesn’t expect Danta to grind up against him and tug him further into the crowd, until they’re essentially surrounded.
It’s a mixture of the alcohol and the surprise that has his cheeks flooding with heat, a rare occurrence from the butcher but one on full display, he does his best to return the favor with a breathy laugh at himself and far too much attention at keeping his tail from getting trampled on or wrapped around a stranger.
Astaroth
'cause there ain't no other place to go
