// tell me i'm forgiven, say you'll always be mine //
“Ack.” The butcher drawls with amusement, huffing his laugh intot eh sigh so it sounds less funny than it is. Either way, he snags the cane and prowls close to the Maverick, peering at him in the reflection. At the confirmation of the cardigan, he rolls his eyes playfully at the idea of the other shirt, straightening back up. “Mm, perhaps. I suppose it will depend on how slutty I will be feeling.” It’s said in a deadpanned tone, broken up only by the twitch of his lips in the smile of amusement while he tries not to break character.
It doesn’t last long, though, because Danta’s finished and they’re on their way – the door opening to the flurry of dark wings and the click of his cane as it hits the floor. “Apologies, darling, I thought you were roosting on the mezzanine.” He hums to the corvid, leaning over Danta’s shoulder briefly to peer at her, before he withdraws to let Danta lead the way – in the correct positioning, unlike their dare had been.
The Dusklight is much like what Asta had explained – bumping, bouncy, energetic but in an almost frantic kind of way. With others binging and uncertain of what day it is, the staff seem to have it all relatively handled – moving like a well oiled machine for each rhythm and bump that might occur. Music croons loosely beneath the sounds of the people within, the air thick with the scent of drinks and sweat and too much perfume and cologne.
It doesn’t last long, though, because Danta’s finished and they’re on their way – the door opening to the flurry of dark wings and the click of his cane as it hits the floor. “Apologies, darling, I thought you were roosting on the mezzanine.” He hums to the corvid, leaning over Danta’s shoulder briefly to peer at her, before he withdraws to let Danta lead the way – in the correct positioning, unlike their dare had been.
The Dusklight is much like what Asta had explained – bumping, bouncy, energetic but in an almost frantic kind of way. With others binging and uncertain of what day it is, the staff seem to have it all relatively handled – moving like a well oiled machine for each rhythm and bump that might occur. Music croons loosely beneath the sounds of the people within, the air thick with the scent of drinks and sweat and too much perfume and cologne.
Astaroth
// say that everything is over, tell me i'm fine //
