southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Completely oblivious despite the level of preparation Asta is likely to have committed for something as big as this moment, Danta is quite happily fucking about in their room when the butcher emerges. He's changed his pants a number of times while the other man has been making his selection, finally settling on something loose and linen but without a wrinkle in sight, which is why he's flaked out horizontally on their bed so as to not move and ruin it.

"Mmmm?" Tipping his head back off the edge of the bed mid-braid, he catches sight of the shirt - and the man holding it, haloed by the sun in all his glory - from a rather upside down perspective. "Oh, very nice. Did you smuggle that away with us?" he wonders, finishing the braid and rolling at last to stand and accept the shirt.

"I sense the answer is yes, given that we're wearing actual clothes on vacation," he adds with a smirk, shrugging easily into the shirt and buttoning it a good halfway up at least, but no further; how else is he meant to show off the glitter of bone and gold? "Would you be a dear and get the clasp?" he purrs, turning and lifting his hair out of the way so Asta can fiddle about with it.

"Remember the last time we ended up out on the town in Torchline and you pushed me in the healing fountain? Let's not do that again?"

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash