[Training] a conversation about identity

They say I'm a dangerous man, better run fast as you can

“Ah, yes, however burning it off still leaves one with a mess.” The butcher hums with a tone that’s more lamenting than anything, dramatics returning through him as he glances over at her. “It burns away to ash which is unfortunately far easier to smear.” A heavy sigh leaves him, like it’s the only thing he can imagine in this moment that would ruin it. It doesn’t, not really, because both he’s mastered a way of cleaning. But without fireproof clothes just yet, the butcher’s at a loss of ensuring he doesn’t lose some of his favorite attire (even if there’s far less of it this season).

Chuckling lightly and offering his elbow to her from the hand not holding the head of the wolf, the butcher’s head tilts curiously, as if debating whether or not anyone would say anything. He already knows the answer, but at times it’s fun to play along. Such that when he shoots his shark-tooth grin back over at her, he inclines his horned head with a nod. “It is purely about your comfort, darling. I would not at all be opposed to having a drink with you looking as beautifully bloody as you do now. It relies on whether or not you think you could stand it?” A playful challenge shot back her way, the squeeze of her arm as they pick their path back toward the Dusklight.

Astaroth

Don't you look back, every bone in my body's bad