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
“Always happy to be the guinea pig for your found liquors, darling.” Asta confirms, pausing in his inspection to flash a wink her way, before its returning to both the dagger and the bottle of white rum as the wax is cracked under her attentive fingers. She’s pouring while he sits back and inspects the blade he’s plucked from the table, though, and when she speaks he sets the dagger down to snag the glass she’s filled for himself.
“Ooh, we do love a good exploitation.” The butcher chuckles, lifting the glass to his nose first to take a small whiff of the sweet rum. He scents vanilla and hints of lime, a refreshing kind of tone with maybe a hint of coconut amongst the mix. And once she sits and gets comfortable does Asta make a little toast motion with his glass, before taking a sip.
It’s precisely as he thought – refreshing in the way that rum often wasn’t, though that could be because it was a white rum. It hasn’t aged as much as the rest of the ones he was used to tasting. And he hums pleasantly as he swallows it down with a burning sensation that’s welcome when he focuses back on her question, his smile twisting a touch sharper and playful. “He and I are to go and see the Hanging Tree.” A perfect date night, if he had any idea of what the name might include.
Turns out, he won’t be disappointed, either. But the butcher’s grin is bright as he takes another sip and spins the glass in his fingers after as he lets it burn the way down his throat. “Then after that, I suppose it will be wherever our chaos guides us.” To the Greatwood in search of flowers, though he knows better than to tell her that.
“Ooh, we do love a good exploitation.” The butcher chuckles, lifting the glass to his nose first to take a small whiff of the sweet rum. He scents vanilla and hints of lime, a refreshing kind of tone with maybe a hint of coconut amongst the mix. And once she sits and gets comfortable does Asta make a little toast motion with his glass, before taking a sip.
It’s precisely as he thought – refreshing in the way that rum often wasn’t, though that could be because it was a white rum. It hasn’t aged as much as the rest of the ones he was used to tasting. And he hums pleasantly as he swallows it down with a burning sensation that’s welcome when he focuses back on her question, his smile twisting a touch sharper and playful. “He and I are to go and see the Hanging Tree.” A perfect date night, if he had any idea of what the name might include.
Turns out, he won’t be disappointed, either. But the butcher’s grin is bright as he takes another sip and spins the glass in his fingers after as he lets it burn the way down his throat. “Then after that, I suppose it will be wherever our chaos guides us.” To the Greatwood in search of flowers, though he knows better than to tell her that.
Astaroth
i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////
