don't need love when it comes in a bottle

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

The whisper is akin to a near maniac’s answer. The fiendish grin and the amusement that fills within is one that the butcher snickers softly, unable to truly come up with how many scenarios the Maverick might have when it comes to having his own Pocket Size Butcher in hand. “You know… That would truly explain a lot.” He muses playfully, going so far as to set his cup of tea down to reach for the spot in his back that always seemed to twinge just the wrong way.

Picking it back up, he takes a hearty sip of the tea before leaning into Danta’s space to snap a bite of his bone shaped cookie as payback from the previous nibble of the antler. “Flail away, darling. I make a very nice punching bag, as you know.” He smirks, sitting back and looking at Danta with amusement glittering in his honey gaze.

He shifts the tray away and helps them settle back in against the headboard of the bed amongst the pillows and the rest of the blankets in case Danta does decide to fall asleep – whether willingly or unwillingly. And if he does, the butcher will be ready for the nightmare that likely would come. After all, it's usually what happened with him and the corvid exposures of his past.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life