hold you to the light, let you shine

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Humming a soft laugh in response to the Maverick, Astaroth’s gaze flickers between his reflection and the satisfaction bleeding along Danta’s face, which honestly makes the whole thing worth it at the end of the day. And as Danta steps away, he spends the next few moments adjusting the shirt so it sits a little bit easier against his shoulders, centered enough, before he smooths his hands over his thighs, feeling the soft sturdy touch of the leather.

The tailor practically preens with each and every compliment, a lot of I look forward to it, and thank yous spill from his lips as he steps back and watches for a moment to see the whole picture come together.

As Danta rounds back toward him with the muzzle mask, Astaroth nods to offer his permission before he’s bending slightly toward him to allow for it to be placed – buckles clicking as they get clasped, leather settling easily against his cheekbones and jaw bone, and when Danta’s voice purrs the perfect, he’s instead focusing on the full and complete image. His grin is hidden, which is a shame, but he can’t deny the way that it gives an air of mystery and brutalish appearance. “Well, well.” He hums, finding it surprisingly easy to speak while wearing the muzzle. He twists this way and that to get a better view, before he adjusts a singular lock of his dark hair that’s fallen forward, before his attention is beaming down at Danta entirely – like nothing else exists in the room. Moving slightly to encroach on his space, the smile is reflected in his eyes rather than on full display. “I stand corrected. It does suit the Dusklight quite well, doesn’t it?” His voice is muffled from the leather, but the breathability of it is surprisingly good considering the fact it’s made out of leather.

He's like a walking warning sign.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Danta hopes it's easy to speak and breathe - he'd spent a few moments with the tailor whilst measuring to ensure there are panels taken from the mask in appropriate places to allow the butcher to do anything he wishes other than bite, though from experience they both know it won't take much for Asta to get his teeth through this particular muzzle. Even so, as the other man crowds into his space and they are able to look at the ensemble as a whole, he inclines his head as if to accept the virtue of being correct.

"Very much so, especially on the days when there are more chains and whips on display than anything else," he agrees, brushing his fingers against the sleek fabric of his shirt sleeve before snagging at his wrist. "In hindsight I ought to have gotten some gloves made for you as well. It's always a shame for me to see you bruise your knuckles," he murmurs.

Absolutely thriving to see his work come to life, the tailor gives them as much time as they require, asking only whether Asta plans to wear the new ensemble out of the shop or if he'd like it packaged up. In response, Danta raises his eyebrows to the other man as if to ask what he'd prefer. It isn't as if he minds either way, now that he's got to see him in it.

Dantalion

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

“Over half of the week, you mean?” Astaroth retorts with a soft snort of amusement, but clings to the touch of the Maverick’s fingers as they brush along his shirt sleeve and clasp around his wrist. Raising a dark brow at the mention of gloves and how it’s a shame to see him when he bruises his knuckles, it’s almost like it’s news to him. “And here I was under the impression you preferred me a touch roughed up.” He murmurs, cocking his head playfully, before the tailor’s voice croons over to them.

Casting a glance back toward the tailor and toward Danta, he makes his decision surprisingly quickly. “I think I shall wear it out.” Why? Because it’s their date, and Danta has designed it specifically for him. That and he’s confident it will take him eight years to get out of the pants to switch back in. So, he collects the rest of his clothes and drapes it over his arm, returning to pay and make a mention of such gloves for the future, before he’s offering his other arm out for the Maverick to take for the stroll back to whatever drama they can spark at the Dusklight in this particular outfit tonight.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"It is not over half the week," Danta protests. Just Tuesdays through Thursdays, Astaroth. And sometimes on public holidays. He raises an eyebrow to hear the other man's observation, fingers brushing featherlight over the back of his hand as if to wonder why he'd ever want to see it torn and bruised. "You thought wrong," he almost whispers, waiting for the tailor to turn away to head back to the front of the boutique before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles.

"Out, mm? How brave of you." Grinning, it's not necessarily because Asta might feel uncomfortable in the outfit, but more because of the number of advances he's about to have to fight off from the Dusklight. Nevertheless the decision is made, and the Maverick offers a bright wave goodbye to the tailor as they leave. "I can see why you enjoy it there so much now," he croons to the butcher, strolling back towards home and feeling very much as if he's accompanied by his head of security now.

Dantalion

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Rolling his eyes affectionately, the Maverick can’t see the smile that lingers on his face to watch as he protests, it softens into something tender and gentle, clasping around his heart in a softness he hadn’t expected when Danta’s whisper reaches him and there’s the gentle kiss to his knuckles. His fingertips extend to brush gently along his jaw before he withdraws completely so that they can pay. “Mm, I thought so.” He agrees. And once that’s all complete and they’re on their way back, his tail waves contently behind him as they reach the streets toward the Dusklight.

Tilting his head down toward Danta, it’s with that menacing appearance that hides his smile but that the Maverick would be able to see in the crinkle of his gaze as he raises a brow playfully. “Oh? Do tell.” He wants to know what parts of it Danta enjoyed, to see if it matches up with the reason he spends a good portion of his time there, too – and selfishly, perhaps having Danta show up there more often too. “You should join me more often, darling.” He tacks on with a muffled purr as they round the corner and the Dusklight’s entrance comes into view.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Perhaps I will. I thoroughly enjoyed being able to use you as a mannequin. Usually it's a fight to get you to stand still and follow instructions," Danta purrs; of course he'd enjoyed being the one in control for once, not to mention it had been shamelessly wonderful to be able to ogle Astaroth from every angle and to touch him wherever he pleased. It's with these thoughts still dancing through his mind and a wicked little smile on his face that they approach the Dusklight.

Before they get too close, the Maverick does slip his arm out of the butcher's, reaching up to take the clothes from him as well - he doesn't want anything to take away from this entrance, especially given the events of the past few weeks. (Looking at you, wicker woman fallout). "Shall we?" he purrs to Asta, stepping in front of the other man before swanning into his establishment without a care in the world.

To say that all eyes fall upon them is a red herring, because they almost always do - such is the curse of being the proprietor (Danta) or being tall and intimidating (Asta). But there are double and triple takes as the Maverick slips further into the Dusklight, heading for the bar where he can get himself a drink and acquaint himself with all that they've missed while they were out on their date.

Dantalion

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

“As I am sure you have realized by now, I am quite motivated when there is something I like involved.” It’s up to Danta to decide whether it’s a slip of it just being clothes or whether it’s that the Maverick was there in the first place – but as it stands, feeling very much exposed but so long as the blonde is happy, then Astaroth can concede to it.

He nods as Danta purrs and swans in, and while eyes always drag toward them, there’s something different this time. Instead of it being a glance and a nod of knowing, it’s a longer look, multiple of them even. And so, the butcher keeps his posture perfectly right as he trails after Danta, like his shadow, like always – the scars on his back on display to the tables and groups he walks past.

He heads to the bar as well, momentarily at least, tail flicking idly as he leans across it toward the blonde and flashes a smile that’s only seen by the slight crinkle of his eyes. “Are we mingling tonight?” Aka, should he go and post up somewhere to see just what Danta’s new outfit does for the Dusklight this evening?

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Not bothering to hide his own smile, of course Danta enjoys the way the eyes flick to him and then over his shoulder, and stay there, because in his humble opinion, of cours everyone in the establishment ought to be looking at Astaroth. He doesn't bother to make the butcher a drink this time given the confines of his mask, but he contents himself with some whiskey over ice before that velvet, accented voice reaches him (even if it's a little muffled).

"I think so, yes," he purrs to him, inclining his head in a nod. "At least for an hour. We ought to show our faces for part of the night, don't you think?" And then he has every intention of sneaking up to his rooms where he'll find Asta once again, with any luck. For now, though, he offers him a wink and slips away into the Backrooms where he can set the buther's clothes down in his office.

Dantalion

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Dark eyes watch as the whiskey is put together, before the answer greets him and the butcher is already nodding – a loose dark hair falling into his face that he reaches up to smooth back. “An hour, then.” Comes the velvet agreement, muffled yet thickly accented al the same, before he straightens up and watches the Maverick vanish into the backrooms, however temporarily.

He can feel the eyes on him with each step he takes toward his usual post, leaning up against the wall with a frame of exposed wood, arms crossed and tail drifting languidly, his dark eyes scan each and every table and patron upon them. Of course, the fair few of them are staring at him – some to the mask and the man behind it, others taking in full appreciation of the leather pants thanks Danta, but the second they notice his attention back they twist their gaze away.

Perhaps it was as good of a deterrent as Danta had suggested?

At least, he thinks so until someone far too inebriated stumbles over from behind him, a tall, fair haired woman who’s eyes are fully drinking him in. Her hand goes to tug at the open air of his shirt, thankfully not ghosting across his scars just yet, but it does cause him to freeze and twist toward her with a dark seething look. “Do you require assistance?” He asks in that muffled tone, albeit much more deadpanned and daring.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Tipping a mischievous wink over his shoulder, by the time Danta returns from the Backrooms he's pleased to see that his head of security has settled himself in his usual spot. And whilst the Dusklight remains its usually rowdy self, any trouble brewing has quickly changed its mind or stepped out to find somewhere else to be. Not only that, people are still doing what they do best in brothels, even if the lingering eyes upon Astaroth are too many to count and he'll find himself propositioned by the boldest of their regulars.

None of them are quite so bold as the fair-haired woman who has come to try and glue herself to his side, however, and the Maverick watches the interaction through suddenly cool eyes and over the rim of his second glass of whiskey. He has no doubt that Asta will be able to handle himself and the interruption to his duties, but it doesn't stop the drink in his hand from beginning to steam, stinging his eyes when he realises what he's done.

Clearing his throat and lowering the glass, Danta does his best to tune back in to what his head bartender is telling him, though his eyes remain on the man across the room.

Dantalion

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

His question is met with a shrill laugh of amusement from the fair haired woman, her eyes still drinking him in even as her drunken state allows her to think that this was some kind of cliché movie moment – the way she shakes her head and her curls bounce and she flashes him a bright smile, pushing herself into his space to where he’s backed up against the wooden frame.

That hand of hers, long and spidery not unlike his own, lifts to trail down his chest and trace the ridges of the herringbone pattern, and already Astaroth is baring teeth at her – hidden by the mask. His tail sweeps over to wind around her waist and pull her away, his hands lifting to take her own off of him, and it sparks an all too loud ooh! from the woman even as it will be very clear to Danta that he isn’t entertaining any of it.

His tail unwinds once she’s given him some breathing room and his hands move to guide her at her back toward a table that looked like it could use a partner, before trying to gently push her that way. But, much like a dog that doesn’t want to be moved, she digs her heels in and spins sloppily, grabbing onto his strong arms for balance and support, beaming a smile at him, which only causes his tail to start lashing in frustration.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Danta manages to concentrate for a full thirty seconds before the woman's shrill laughter has him glancing up again, by which time even his bartender is nudging him to go and sort things out. It's little to do with the relationship between butcher and Maverick, either; Asta can't rightly do his job when he's babysitting some drunk, so the sooner it's taken care of, the better.

And who better to take care of it than the Dusklight's proprietor?

"I'm afraid you'll have to allow my head of security to do his job. I know he looks tempting, but he's paid for a different sort of service." He purrs, his arm moving around the woman's waist to quite determinedly peel her away. "Perhaps I can offer you some entertainment for a little while?" Raising his eyebrows, he moves to guide her to an empty table, snapping his fingers for some drinks to be brought over.

Sorry, Asta.

Dantalion

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

It’s both a good and a bad thing that Danta’s stepped over to take control of the situation. Why? Because the butcher is nearly relieved as the woman’s focus turns toward Danta with just as much glee, her hands immediately pressing against Danta’s chest as he’s squirreling her away. Astaroth is suddenly quite glad for the mask as the frown crosses his face alongside the murderous gleam in his gaze, huffing out a little sound.

He takes up his post again, giving a cursory glance around the area before he finds himself staring at the table again and the woman who’s more than happy to try and touch wherever Danta would let her. The butcher’s tail whips behind him in discontent, and he forces his eyes away. Anywhere but there lest he give off too much distaste for what’s occurring.

The woman, meanwhile, practically beams up at Danta, trying to fit herself in against him and ask in a slurred, lusty whisper of what kind of entertainment they could get up to.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Whilst they are not monogamous in any sense of the word, there's something very handsy about the woman suddenly all over him that, paired with the fact that he's still on the very first date of his life, has Danta not really wanting to play ball. He still plays nice with her at least, gently peeling her away and sitting her in the booth beside him and assuring her with all the sweet talk in the world that he'd love nothing more than to sneak away for some entertainment.

Alas, the life of a Theocrat is a busy one, but he has some very interested girls and boys that would enjoy giving her a good time. And just like the fair-haired woman, Danta also doesn't take no for an answer, such that when he does extract himself from her company, she'll already be very busy with the workers he's called over to take his place.

Straightening up and fixing his shirt, he glances across to Asta - who couldn't look more obviously back at him if he tried - and raises his eyebrows, as if to ask if he's alright.

Dantalion