[SE] i'm a jester and i'm yours

I wanna run against the world that's turning

Scoffing at that, Danta's smile is hidden by the way he's nosed against Asta's shirt. "Now you mention it, I can recall being taken down several pegs at that age." It's not entirely the same given that his ego was all but starved out of him from much younger than as a twenty-something upstart, but he can appreciate the way one's worldview can be shaken to its foundations by something as mild as a differing opinion.

Asta continues, though, and the Maverick's smile melts from amused into something warm and quietly content, and he lets an arm slip around the other man too for good measure. "He certainly does not," he mumbles in agreement. "I don't care what he does or doesn't understand though, to be frank. As long as you're happy, the rest can burn."

Inhaling a long breath and sighing it out, he sits back a fraction when the butcher does, eyes closing to feel the kiss pressed to his brow. "Hm? I suppose I had better let you, hadn't I?" Smirking, Danta carefully reaches back to peel away his sleeveless shirt, revealing the blood coating his left shoulderblade and the deep gash there from the chakram.

"He used some weird sharp frisbee thing," he explains, rubbing his fingers together to produce a flame, holding it up to light the cigarettes. "Oh, and," he adds, "and he told me to get a fucking manicure."

Dantalion

I'd move so fast that I'd outpace the dawn, I wanna be gone