Warning bells peel in his head as his glare focuses on the stillness of the woman before him, those metaphorical bells had been going off since she walked through the door. Yet, Brenden couldn't hold his temper at bay as his dark eyes focus on her, as if his very gaze could strip the woman bare and see directly into her soul. If she had a soul. His towering form stands, eyes darting from the dead body to the woman and perhaps that was a tinge of fear so within him, Brenden successfully covering it up with anger. He would think of this moment at a later date, for now, he was simply trying to figure out a way to get rid of her and the body that is strewn across the desk.

Her rhetorical question goes unanswered, Brenden's wheels turning faster than he could think as he all but stares at that wall she so puts up. He might have gaped in other circumstances, instead it merely deepens the frown in his brow as his fists unclench and clench at his side. What does take him off guard is the snarl that so emits from her lips and again, those damn bells go off in his head. If he were smart, he would have used that back entrance and simply would have left, perhaps even direct the authorities straight to her. Yet, he knew he was already in too deep, how would he explain this? From the hoisting of the body onto the desk, left Brenden splatted in blood. Disgusting. His usual spotless shop was now covered in gore. Still, he does not answer, the warlock hardly sure as to what to say. I mean, what could you say in these circumstances?

Yet, he loses his senses as he storms towards the woman, gripping her arm in a bruising force, hardly realizing that it wouldn't hurt her, for she was undead and undead did not bruise any longer. His angered voice rising as he snaps at her, her utter stillness causing a wariness to creep into his mind and yet, he still doesn't listen to it. "You are in my shop and I will give orders as I please," his voice lowers an octave, his lyrics almost threatening. He should know better, he shouldn't be picking a fight with this woman. He had a feeling this ashen haired beauty could wipe him from the earth within a matter of seconds, even with his own magical abilities. Her next statement has Brenden almost growling at her, though he entirely believes her and he wrenches his hand away, both from her threat and the iciness of her skin. He was a fool. Grunting at her, he takes a few steps back as she speaks... almost softer now as his raging eyes return to her features.

"Fine," he states bluntly, surprising himself with his own agreement. Perhaps those warning bells were finally getting through his thick skull. Still, he is entirely aware of her nature in that moment of touching her, his brain putting two and two together as he practically curses out the term vampire. Her sighing response does nothing to the man, Brenden hardly feeling any pity whatsoever as he brings his thick arms to fold over his chest, "What do you prefer then?" He drawls almost sarcastically, Brenden's emotions unhinged at the moment, "Murderer? Bloodsucker? It's all the same, isn't it?" He barks at her, an unamused laugh escaping his lips. He should have been dead twice over now and yet, he was still living, still breathing, unharmed in front of this woman. His attention is diverted once again by the corpse so slung across the desk, Brenden racking his mind in how he was going to get out of this nightmare. He would surely be thrown in prison as an accomplice and his shop closed down!

As his mind whirs, it almost breaks as the body simply vanishes from sight. Brenden dropping his arms to his side, "What... the hell?" He murmurs out almost dumbfounded, his gaze turning back to the woman. Frowning at her, it manages to click, somehow, someway, "You're an illusionist," it was more of a statement rather than a question. Brenden wasn't dumb by any means, his common sense tending to be a touch more superior than the average person. That and he was far from being ignorant to the magic within the world, the man having seen and met many people through his young life. He's quite nearly ready to fall off that edge, his fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he lets out a sound of exasperation, his eyes closing momentarily. Her sing song voice distracts him as he drops his hand and glares at her, hardly holding anything back, "It tends to be a good descriptive word on how I'm feeling," he snaps out, sarcasm thickening his words.

"I'm glad my shop was the one you picked, you couldn't have broken in to the many selections on the block?" He states rhetorically, hardly moving from his spot as he waves a hand aggressively. Her explanation only has Brenden pausing, not particularly out of pity more or less out of incredulousness, "Can't you vampires use blood bags? Isn't there something you can sign up at the hospital for? They do donations for people like you," he growls, never taking into consideration that the vampire might not even know about such a thing. Her next question has him stilling before her as he realizes she would simply kill him if he became and problem and yet, he already knew he wasn't going to rat her out simply because it would destroy him in the process, "No, I'm in far too deep now," he growls, waving a hand to his blood splattered clothes, "You think the authorities would believe someone like me?" He barks that unamused laugh again.

His features turn wary as she begins to move closer to him, Brenden taking everything it had in him to not move away from her as she prowls closer in that predatory way. "Warlock," he answers gruffly, hardly realizing why he would admit such a thing. Perhaps she enjoyed the taste of Fae and he would be safe from those fangs of hers. "Don't look at me like that," he snaps at her, "I'm not your next meal," he grounds out, the closer she gets the more he has to look down at her. "There's a door in the back of the shop that leads into the alleyway."