Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

This was not his sort of place. Not at all.

In fact, this was so far from his ideal environment that he could almost feel his skin crawl with just how many of those beings within this place were of the Were variety. He supposed it was to be expected, after all, the owner of the establishment was a Were herself and yet if word on the street was anything to go by she was moving on, ready to sell up. How unfortunate that was, Nadya Tetradore had been almost tolerable. Almost. Perhaps a little more so then her brother whom Azrael was entirely sure he had shot twice now only to have that man continue to live. Even if that second time hadn't exactly been an attempt to kill him. Mores the pity. He supposed, realistically he had held decidedly few problems with the Nightshade pack over the years. It's alpha kept to himself and that lunatic of Beta seemed to be relatively under control. Raven was- tolerable, in small doses. The hunter having come to almost accept her presence, almost, if only for the manner in which that Werewolf seemed to please Serafina. It was for his girlfriend alone he was willing to make that compromise on his normally strict rule of remaining as far from Were creatures as possible. In fact, given the choice he wouldn't go near any of them save for Sera herself. Azrael hardly caring to consider the hypocrisy of that tonight. The sooner he finished his task her tonight the sooner he could be on his way.

The man at the door made near no effort to stop him. Azrael's reputation it seemed, proceeding him in this. The blonde-haired man having been working within this city for several years now. Long enough for word of his decidedly short patience and poor temper to spread, his skill with those affinities nearly as infamous as that golden-blonde hair he never quite seemed to be able to control. The man striding across the floor now in search of whoever was in charge tonight only to be met with the usual shrugs and nervous stutters from the staff. Fucking great. A task that should take fifteen minutes was going to take an hour if no one here was willing to say they were in charge. It was pointless work anyway, the councils attempt to keep him busy, he'd already met his quota of kills this week- they had nothing left from him to do save for ticking boxes and assuring those supernatural run establishments were up to Council Code. It was hardly this place they needed to worry about. If anything it was those witches and yet maybe it was better he wasn't involved there, even the thought leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as a waitress hurried off with the promise to find whoever was in charge tonight. Azrael easing his tall frame onto the nearest bar stool, one golden eye glancing sideways briefly at the girl beside him. Another hunter?

He could tell from the feel of her aura alone. Hmm, he thought he knew all the hunters in this city, both the council members and at least most of those rouges, one golden eye lingered on her before the man turned within his seat to face her properly. He hardly knew this woman, he was sure of that, Azrael contemplating merely ignoring her. Idle chatter was hardly his forte in any sense and yet how long he might be waiting for answers on who was in charge before he needed to go and find them was another matter entirely. This woman perhaps something of a distraction while he waited, the man careful to avert his gaze from those dancers on stage. Azrael far....older then his youthful appearance indicated. The man from a time in which woman simply did not show themselves off in that fashion. Azrael determined to focus on the girl next time him if only because she had most of her clothing on.

"I haven't seen you before."

It was more a statement then a question. Azrael eternally blunt in some things. He never had been considered much of a conversationalist, the man leaning forward on that bar almost nonchalantly all the same, his gaze resting on her with a sharp alertness that betrayed that relaxed posture. Azrael entirely aware of off his surroundings all the same. He had to be. A Hunter with his back turned was a target no matter his reputation. Besides- he hadn't risen this high in the councils ranks because he was foolish, far from it, he was good at what he did, that, if anything, making him more of a target to those he had encountered before. For now however, his attention remained largely upon the intriguing woman before him, those baritone lyrics resounding once more.

"Are you with the Council or are you one of- them."

One eye arched upward slightly, his words decidedly pointed. Azrael hardly a man to waste time in finding out whether she was here to work for them or she was merely here on her own, a rouge hunter. His thoughts on the later surely clear from his tone alone.