Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

He manages something of a sigh, one hand lifting to pinch the bridge of his nose. Must he always get the difficult ones? Was no one simply capable of agreeing with his words, accepting his warning and letting him be on his way? The council would want a report on this witch and her store- they would want to know what she was selling and to who, what the chances of her turning any humans were and thus how much of a threat she was. Azrael was, perhaps, one of the more relaxed Hunters in this area at least. He was willing to warn her if nothing else, give her an opportunity to tidy up a little before someone less inclined to give her a chance turned up. Was she to entirely stupid to see he was affording her a life line against his better judgement and the very policy of the council itself? If she wasn't selling any real magic to humans then she was hardly as much of a threat as most of the council believed- she didn't need to die and yet she evidently seemed determined to commit herself to it all the same. Azrael attempting once more to prevent his temper getting the better of him. Overly sarcastic witches were truly not what he desired to deal with today.

"I am well aware you did not get to be a witch by birth, it is the very notion you might seduce some human to the dark side that is the issue."

He mutters the words, leaning back against the nearest table, eyeing her books with disdain all the same. He remains tense, despite his laconic appearance, entirely alert. He has not survived this long by merely being complacent in the company of supernaturals. Golden eyes lift upward as the woman's speaks once more, her sentence faltering and deliberately so, as if she means to goad him into some sort of response and yet she is far closer to the mark then he truly likes. For half a moment Azrael very near believes that she may be...aware of more then he had anticipated, his relationship with Sera, in whatever capacity that was defined, was decidedly secretive and he intended to keep it that way. Having the council made aware of it would be....unfortunate from near every angle. The woman shifts, moving suddenly, her hand pressing against his chest as near every nerve in his body seems to fire all at once with utter....disgust at being touched by her. A desire to obliterate her clawing within him with such potent force it takes near all his energy to prevent himself lashing out at her. He so dislikes them....touching him. Any of them and yet the words she flings towards him are perhaps far more correct then she truly realizes. He always hesitated with Witches, always, he was doing it this very moment- the question within her words seeing him clamp his jaw shut with a near audible force. He so loathes direct questions. Perhaps he cannot lie....but he cannot be made to talk either. Though silence is, unfortunately, so often an answer all its own.

"Can you get your goddamn hand off me?"

He shoves her arm away as he stands once more, eyes narrowed darkly upon her now, his agitation at her far more inclined to outright fury in the wake of her words and the very fact she still seemed so overly determined to irritate him. The final line of his patience so unfortunately trodden upon as she makes light of his final warning.

"You are not listening."

His affinity lashes towards her with more force then he perhaps truly intended to use it. Maybe he was not capable of killing her, at least not just yet- but it hardly meant he was simply going to allow her to attempt to undermine his authority either. He moves to ensnare her within the grasp of his gravity power, launching her upward, pinning the woman entirely to the roof above him and holding her there. He manages a somewhat irritable snort, attempting to gain control of his temper once more, one hand running through his hair as he continues to ignore the witch pinned upon her own roof for several moments before he rather abruptly seats himself upon her table, pulling a Pottery Barn catalogue onto his lap- before beginning to read it.

"You can come the fuck down when you're ready to stop being a smart-ass."

He returns to perusing the catalogue, flicking another page before one hand twists ever so slightly until the woman hangs upside down.

"Don't pass out on me. Was that a sorry I hear? No? Very well. Stay there then."

Something of a simper manages to brush across his lips.