southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

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

"Only you would insist on still going to dinner if I had declined your proposal," Danta says with a fiendish smile, settling comfortably in his seat and watching Asta flit about with affection in his eyes. A control freak the other man might be, but Danta loves him for it, no more so than on occasions like this where his meticulous nature clearly pays off.

Accepting his menu and humming over it as though there's really any doubt in what he's likely to order, he's crossed his legs loosely at the ankle beneath the table, his tail hooking around Asta's with the sort of ease that had once caused arguments between them. "Oh, we certainly will," he purrs, smiling to himself as the butcher engages in their usual game of menu theatre, his foot brushing gratefully against his calf.

Snapping his menu shut only a short time later (he can read the words surf and turf easily enough, it turns out) and setting it back down on the table, it's at that point that Asta comes up with a much more important question - arguably as important as his proposal. "Cocktails, I should think," he replies immediately. "They tend to be sweeter, and a wine connossieur taught me to pair my wine with my meal. Besides, food tastes better when you're already a little buzzed, no?"

Dantalion

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