There was a reason why the witch hated people.

Hunters just happened to be the worst of them.

She couldn't help but tease the man regarding the magic, though she had no intention of ever, ever using it or selling it on a human. She knew what that could do. She knew what even the slightest taste for magic would do to a human. After all, she'd been one of those humans once, even if she was just a teenager when she'd been exposed. But she knew, perhaps better than the hunter did, how intoxicating the taste of magic was. It was like a drug, constantly pulling you back in, making you shake and stumble without it. Elanora liked what she was, even relished in it, but sometimes - late at night in particular, when she couldn't quite fall asleep - she wondered what her life would have been like had she not stumbled upon those warlocks and spent every ounce of her money begging them to teach her. But, of course, that would never happen. So the young witch had to make due with what she was given. And being a witch was not the worst thing that you could be. You could be a Hunter, after all.

The young witch was still contemplating all of this when the surge of his power had her lifted off her feet and quite literally slammed her into the ceiling. She hated to show any sort of weakness, especially towards the man that had come to threaten her, but the yelp that escaped her as he twisted her upside down was one that even she couldn't help. It was infuriating that he was so easily able to manipulate her body and leave her powerless to do anything to stop him. Sure, there was likely a potion or two on the shelf that could have helped her, but it wasn't as though she could reach them at the moment, now could she?

The sputtering, angered words that came out of her lips only seemed to amuse him. That, in turn, only riled the witch up more. She hated that he was so casually looking at her things - more so, she hated herself for having a stupid Pottery Barn catalogue there in the first place, how intimidating of her - and hated that he had this hold over her. It was only when she felt that she might pass out from the blood rush did the half-assed apology slip from her lips. He didn't react, at least not visibly, but the surge of his power seemed to vanish all at once. The scream that erupted from the witch's lips as she plummeted straight towards the ground. She had no time to brace herself for the impact.

And then, all at once, she stopped. Barely an inch from the floor before he dropped her again onto the floor. For a moment, Elanora considered a new surge of insults to be thrown at him. But it was more than likely that that would send her flying towards the ceiling again. Instead, she merely sat on the floor, looking downright pathetic as she stared up at the golden-haired man that towered above her. She'd just opened her mouth to yell at him when he began to speak, the girl falling silent as she watched him with a scowl on her face. It was infuriating to be told what to do, especially when it was what she was already doing. She had no intentions of selling real magic to the humans, though now she was half tempted to do it to spite him.

"Fine. Fuck you." She spat, moving to stand to her feet. She didn't look up at him as she brushed the dirt off her clothes, checking herself for any kind of injuries. There didn't seem to be any, just incredibly wounded pride. Not that she would dare show that to him. In fact, she was about to demand he leave her shop now that he'd made his goddamn point, when he spoke, inquiring after her name.

"You're the Hunter here, isn't it your fucking job to know my name?" She spat, then hesitated as her gaze travelled upwards towards the ceiling again. It was only that hesitation that forced the girl to comply.

"Elanora."