take me to the moon

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

It's a lucky thing that Asta is so organised, because the gods know Danta wouldn't stand a chance at arranging anything so grand unless it's entirely chaotic and very off the cuff. So as the other man pencils in his notes, the Maverick focuses on the important things, like the handful of ass he's squeezing through the Butcher's back pocket and how the Temple might look if it really did catch fire. "Mm? With real fairies?" he wonders of the lights in question, turning to look at the fountain like he could imagine them angrily chained up around the feature.

Asta clarifies, of course, and whilst the reality is still quaint and potentially flammable, it's not nearly as funny. "That could work," he says nevertheless, tilting a grin up at his fiance. "And it would help to light the way here. I reckon the Temple has plenty of its own aesthetic beyond the smoulder blossoms, though, unless you think we should add anything else to the outside? Also we should think about invitations, I guess."

Dantalion

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