[ Holyshit actual fucking magic. Or an illusion. Squalo sniffs the bottle suspiciously, scratches at the label, tries biting the neck... everything seems real enough. Huh. ]
[ Could he also do this with people? ]
...yes, that's exactly it.
[ He carefully constructs the carefree smirk back on his face, uncorks the wine and pours it into two fancy wine glasses. Then he gets up to cut the meat and put it on their plates before spooning in some garnish to go with it. ]
So. How are you doing? I wouldn't expect you're too fond of this holiday.
[ What with God getting a new favorite son and all. ]
no subject
[ Could he also do this with people? ]
...yes, that's exactly it.
[ He carefully constructs the carefree smirk back on his face, uncorks the wine and pours it into two fancy wine glasses. Then he gets up to cut the meat and put it on their plates before spooning in some garnish to go with it. ]
So. How are you doing? I wouldn't expect you're too fond of this holiday.
[ What with God getting a new favorite son and all. ]