Astaroth
i think i'm the devil in disguise, here's my state of mind
He doubts that he makes it look better than Danta does, but he indulges the other man in a sharp grin of a knowing look regardless. And if he takes a little bit of extra time it’s certainly because he’s tired and not for any other reason. Obviously.
They make it, though, and without the surprise of the staff seeing him dressed down as he is and slipping behind the bar, it is with a small amount of apprehension given the previous season and how aggressive he’d been. They’re quick to notice the difference, though, the ease of which he steps away from Danta without the constant flick of his attention on the other man to pinpoint where he is, the way he can talk without the snarl that blooms in the corners of his lips.
He takes note of the fantasy Danta might have now, filing it away for later as he settles in with the immediate abundance of attention on him. And much like a man who is used to shape shifting to fit in (it had been survival once upon a time), he lets a warm laugh escape him as he gives the cluster of women his attention. “I have all night, ladies, there’s no need to rush.” He hums, focusing on the first one to take her order while he grabs the respective glass for her drink and goes down the line to take all of their orders, nodding to the fellow bartender back here to help him get it under control.
When the drinks are made, topped each with the varying final portion they require – one has a pink umbrella, another a toothpick with a candied cherry on it, one with an olive, and one with a blueberry on top of a pineapple. Each is handed out individually, each with a moment of leaning in to murmur his thanks, ensuring they like the drink before he moves on again. And finally, with this first task complete, the butcher lifts his horned head to scan the crowd for his lover.
They make it, though, and without the surprise of the staff seeing him dressed down as he is and slipping behind the bar, it is with a small amount of apprehension given the previous season and how aggressive he’d been. They’re quick to notice the difference, though, the ease of which he steps away from Danta without the constant flick of his attention on the other man to pinpoint where he is, the way he can talk without the snarl that blooms in the corners of his lips.
He takes note of the fantasy Danta might have now, filing it away for later as he settles in with the immediate abundance of attention on him. And much like a man who is used to shape shifting to fit in (it had been survival once upon a time), he lets a warm laugh escape him as he gives the cluster of women his attention. “I have all night, ladies, there’s no need to rush.” He hums, focusing on the first one to take her order while he grabs the respective glass for her drink and goes down the line to take all of their orders, nodding to the fellow bartender back here to help him get it under control.
When the drinks are made, topped each with the varying final portion they require – one has a pink umbrella, another a toothpick with a candied cherry on it, one with an olive, and one with a blueberry on top of a pineapple. Each is handed out individually, each with a moment of leaning in to murmur his thanks, ensuring they like the drink before he moves on again. And finally, with this first task complete, the butcher lifts his horned head to scan the crowd for his lover.
give me destruction, tell me i'm scrumptious
i'm a fucking delight
i'm a fucking delight
