[ Squalo was not expecting Feitan to just go and decide not to leave, but he doesn't have any complaints. He'd never been particularly good at being alone, which was maybe why he thrived so well in a tight-knit group. Everyone he got close to in Hell kept leaving him, and he'd always tell himself that next time, he will know better. He won't be invested. He won't let himself get broken. But it happens again. Part of him is already worried that it will happen now, too, as soon as he really allows himself to be happy, to enjoy the company of someone who seems to get him on so many levels. Which is quite a rare feat, even in Hell. ]
[ Normal people have morning blowjobs. These fuckers have this. ]
[ Squalo pours himself a cup of coffee, lazily drawing his own blade from its sheath, and points it back. The tips of their swords are almost touching. Who said romance is dead. ]
I thought you'd never ask. [ He smirks and takes a gulp from his mug. ] Wanna take it outside or?
[ His space is pretty big, but it's still confined by whatever castle tower it's located in. It could be challenging in its own way, he supposes, not losing one's footing over the furniture and whatever else Mammon has prepared for him. He's not concerned about damaging anything; it's not like he paid for it or has any particular attachment. ]
no subject
[ Normal people have morning blowjobs. These fuckers have this. ]
[ Squalo pours himself a cup of coffee, lazily drawing his own blade from its sheath, and points it back. The tips of their swords are almost touching. Who said romance is dead. ]
I thought you'd never ask. [ He smirks and takes a gulp from his mug. ] Wanna take it outside or?
[ His space is pretty big, but it's still confined by whatever castle tower it's located in. It could be challenging in its own way, he supposes, not losing one's footing over the furniture and whatever else Mammon has prepared for him. He's not concerned about damaging anything; it's not like he paid for it or has any particular attachment. ]