that waltzing jibberish

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

His attention flickers toward the waitress as she arrives with drinks — a hot chocolate that has Asta’s smile shifting from the toothy savagery of before into something a tough softer. Murmuring his thanks, the finger is set down and placed with the other in a new napkin, wrapped up like a little gift for himself for later.

And to keep the Grounds from getting a little too uncomfortable, he supposes.

He takes a sip of the hot cocoa, relishing in it before he responds. “If you make a big enough impression, it may stick around longer.” Granted the only one that knows of him, sits before him, but it’s still something that counts. He’d been gone for a long time, after all. “Besides, I suppose they need the reminder.” The world as a whole, that is.

He sets the napkin down and realizes it’s spread a little on his sleeve and he huffs a little annoyed sigh, rolling it up more so that it disappears for the moment until he can get it cleaned, the scars deep and sharp like knives cut through his skin. “With any luck, they’ll tell others how to be polite while visiting?” He hums, turning his dark gaze toward the other man.

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Astaroth deals with his snack for later and Danta adds an obscene amount of honey to his black coffee, stirring it in before taking a long, content sip without waiting for it to cool - such are the advantages of being Ancient. "A big impression means nothing if it's the wrong one," he points out over the rim of his mug. "Luckily, though, I think you got off on the right foot with the people down here." Or the right fingers, if they want to be funny about it.

"Or they'll tell people not to visit, because they might not go home with all their limbs intact," he muses, not that he much cares either way. His attention is still on Asta's arm, the Maverick dragging his gaze away with considerable effort, slouching in his seat instead. "Fine," he concedes through a drawl. "I suppose having you around here isn't all that bad."

Dantalion

the streets are all violent with murderous excitement

“I always make the right impression.” Asta protests with that bright grin again, blocking out the many years he did not in fact make a great impression. But that was in the past and thankfully covered up by his bigger tasks. ‘The Mighty Astaroth’. “It seems as though I have here, in fact, given how sweet this chocolate is.” He admits, covering his lips as he takes another sip.

His brows waggle a little in amusement with the admission from the other Ancient, though, his lips twisting into a bright grin of agreement. “Good. I think I could be quite comfortable here.” He admits in turn, slouching again in the seat and sipping lightly from his coffee, content to rest there until work truly starts at the Dusklight later. But by then, hopefully he’ll be cleaned up.

— FIN <333

Astaroth

the hunter and the prey are dancing every day