[SE] its denser now than ever

you're livin' for the rush, for that royal flush, but you take what you can get

Whether in Whitebrim or even in the Climb; had they not been put so immediately at odds with one another, either region might have been graced with a duo whose skill borders on dangerous. Asta is all quiet calculation, predatory patience and careful observation. Danta, on the other hand, is instinct made material, a child of Dygra through and through, his bloodlust barely at bay as they close in on their meal. It's only Asta's tempering presence that keeps him in place, in fact, the Maverick crouched in the undergrowth to watch the man peek frantically over his boulder, and as the butcher's voice purrs into his ear, the smile that spreads across his lips is dark and gleeful.

With pupils blown wide to swallow the blue of his irises, Danta waits until he's right in the criminal's blind spot before he lunges out of the undergrowth, no longer trying to hide his footfalls. The man has just enough time to glance over his shoulder, to yelp in surprise, before the Maverick's hand is on the back of his neck, smashing his skull into the boulder with a quick and sickening crack.

Whether he's conscious or even alive before he hits the ground is none of Danta's business; he's on the man in moments either way, tearing at him with his bare hands.

Dantalion

you play your final ace for a pretty face, tastes like scotch and cigarettes