somewhere in the between

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Oh I'm not sure they'll be all too surprised to see me wearing something that isn't technically a shirt," Danta croons, gesturing at the links of bone and chain that glitter against his chest. "Maybe they won't even look twice at the two of us. Wouldn't that be tragic?" Scoffing under his breath, he makes a mental note to request that, the next time they ballroom dance, to be as suitably and finely dressed as the butcher. That would be a real surprise.

Following at Asta's heels, his own tail curled a little too casually around his leg, he slips his arm through the other man's and sets his mask suitably in place as they emerge onto the main floor of the Dusklight. If Danta notices the quiet glances at Asta and his shadows, he pointedly doesn't follow their eyes, and if he catches any mutterings, he plays dumb about it.

At least he's able to accept the praise for his own attire with as much aplomb as ever, sidling into their booth and raising a hand towards the bar for a bottle of wine to be brought over. "But that sounds boring and tasteless," he purrs, saying what Asta is too polite to voice with a smirk. "How about steak? We can have the salad as well, for show, and then surf and turf to actually sate us."

Dantalion