Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

"You can sell as much fake magic to humans as you want- but nothing real."

He hardly needed anyone becoming enchanted with any delusions about becoming a witch and encouraging this already disobedient woman to take them on as a mentor even despite her seeming assurance that she had little intention of any such thing. Witches were decidedly untrustworthy, most of the time and even despite her apparent dislike of other living beings the man finds her argument holds decidedly little sway- especially when it appears she very near seems to enjoy doing the very opposite of what others are inclined to tell her to do. Why did they always have to be so oppositional? Why did they lack any common sense at all?! His irritation with her however, seems to reach a decidedly new peak in the moments she continues to mention her own species and his apparent affection for them, the man's very blood threatening to boil at the mere suggestion of something so ludicrous. So ludicrous it was entirely true. Any form of direct questioning has forever been the mans weakness, Azrael spared perhaps only by the fact he was not forced to actually provide an answer and yet over the years he had come to find his silence was often answer enough, the witch hardly seeming oblivious to the manner in which he becomes decidedly reluctant to talk at all, nor makes any move to refute her claims in regards to his....softness for her species.

His ability to tolerate witches, if only because of Serafina, is limited to a certain extent- the majority of his good nature reserved for Sera alone. For those others of her kind he is merely willing not to slice them open or obliterate them into shards of fractured light upon sight. To say they are immune from his often poor temperament is also decidedly untrue- when pushed entirely too far the man is more then willing to bring about the end he is sure such unholy creatures deserve. This one- is truly beginning to tread upon his last nerve- her offer of a potion seeing him scowl readily. His discomfort with magic of any kind near as legendary as his over-reactions to near every situation.

"I have no interest in anything you are selling I assure you."

The warning tone to his voice however, seems to be entirely ignored by the woman, a single wave of his power lashed towards her, ensnaring her frame within the grips of his affinity to send her catapulting towards the ceiling. Azrael entirely content to leave her there for as long as it took her attitude to readjust into something he deemed preferable. The nervous yelp the erupts from the woman's lips- the first sign of any true discomfort- brings a momentary simper to Azraels own as he makes himself comfortable at her table, golden gaze leafing easily through the catalogue in his hands as if a sale on sheets truly required all his attention. The Hunter willing to leave the woman dangling upside down above him. If worse came to worse she would merely faint. Perhaps then he could be afforded a little silence. This display of his power is a mere flicker of his true capabilities- Azrael rarely ever engaging anywhere near the full scope of his ability. It was simply unneeded on most occasion. This one sure to be no different.

"I fucking what?"

He allows his head to tilt briefly upward, regarding her a moment before that simper returns and he moves to look deliberately away and back to his magazine in a distinct effort to irritate her even more. If anything he had come to recognise within the woman a personality almost.....akin to his own. Poor girl. The witch, it seems, has no answer for him, Azrael hardly expecting one as he continues to busy himself with his reading material and the woman above folds her arms in defiance. The silence continues to drag on, broken only by the occasional flick of a page before finally....finally, the witch dangling above him seems to swallow her pride enough to apologise. Hmm, now was that so hard? Her mention of his being an 'inconsiderate asshat' is hardly the worst of the things he had been called and indeed he pays little attention to it, the tall blonde waving his arm slightly, abruptly releasing the gravity upon her and letting her plummet straight towards the floor. For several perilous seconds it appears almost as if he fully intends to allow her to collide with the ground, his fingers twitching at the very last moment to stop her- barely half an inch from the floor- before dropping her into an unceremonious heap. The catalogue in his hands is neatly folded, tossed onto a pile of others, one long leg folding over the other as he leaves the girl to get herself up from the floor.

"Now that I've made myself clear. You can sell whatever the hell you fucking want from this store- but nothing with real magic in it. Keep these books and anything of the legitimate magical kind upstairs and in your room. If I come back and find it here again I will not offer you a second warning. If you want to deal in any legitimate magic do it on the side and to other supernatural's only- no humans. You got it?"

One eye lifts with evident expectation, the man more then willing to send her back to the ceiling if she chose to disagree with him again. He never did seem to be very popular around here- shame about that really. Truly he was surprised none of the other business owners had warned this witch about him and yet her talent for making friends seemed as about as apt as his own.

"What's your name?"