frost.

frozen down to the core

This was not going to plan. Not exactly anyways- and oh, how Frost blamed the woman across from him entirely. No sooner had those illusionary flames began to lick at the wooden legs of the chair than the woman across from him let out a girlish squeal of alarm. Rather than leap from that seat as Frost had anticipated she might however, the young woman proceeded to attempt to climb it. Her feet rested on that plush seat as she attempted to scramble away from the flames, the chair at risk of toppling over completely as a result of her ridiculous attempts. What sort of a damn fool tried to climb a flaming chair rather than leap out of it!? Frost's irritation at his companions actions however was all but drowned out in the wake of the panic that seemed to break out in that cafe. The sight of those flames, along with the young woman's screaming, had seemingly resulted in a mass exodus from that space as patrons (and several staff members) attempted to flee from what they believed was a genuine fire. Several people collided with one another, tables, chairs and drinks alike tumbled to the floor in that mad panic and yet, in that precarious moment, Frost remained content upon his target alone. He would have only moments to seize his chair once the young woman inevitably deserted it and before Alexander reached him. His rider, after all, would likely see through that very illusion and yet Frost was willing to face the risk of Alexander's irritation in pursuit of his singular goal. Those flames roared all the higher, consuming that chair in their wake (or seemingly so), just a few more seconds...

Frost's violet gaze deviated but briefly only to find that Alexander was no longer behind the counter as he had once been. Shit. That very thought had no sooner touched the edges of Frost's mind then Alexander's fingers reached out to sharply seize his right ear. His rider having managed to approach, unseen, from his blinded side. The sharp retort that left Frost's lips was decidedly instinctive. Alexander's own voice held it's own notable edge of warning as he demanded Frost cease to set fire to his cafe in any fashion. How well Alexander's tone gave away his irritation. The ancient Hunter so rarely one to be trifled with and yet, today, Frost's own distinctly dominant nature was seemingly determined to press back agianst Alex's own. The stallion's gaze shifted from the young woman, to Alexander and back again. Frost made no effort to hide that internal debate within his mind as to whether or not forcing that woman off the chair was truly worth Alexander's ire. His lips parted once more, attempting to offer a protest in his defense only for Alexander to utter his name in warning- the Hunters grip tightening upon his ear. A sudden, near dramatic groan of defeat left the equine's lips- those flames momentarily roared higher in a final act of defiance (one that earned him yet another satisfying scream from the human girl) before the war horse allowed those flames to abruptly vanish as Alexander had demanded. The hunter's grip upon his ear released instantly, Frost's own hand lifted to rub at the appendage as he inquired whether or not Alexander was 'happy now'- those words holding a distinct edge. Frost, it seemed, remained determined to have that last word in a battle he knew, depe down, was distinctly futile. Yet oh, how his irritation outweighed his better judgement today.

His frigid words however, only seemed to prompt a deeper scowl to form upon Alexander's features. Both men, in that moment, seemingly content to glare at one another as Alexander insisted that he was not, in fact, happy. The hunter's arm lifted to gesture to the mess within that cafe. Spilled drinks, upended furniture, lost patrons and the resulting chaos so apparently Frost's fault entirely. Frost's arms remained folded across his chest. The equine had the audacity to snort softly. He was inclined to admit, perhaps, that he had taken that flaming chair illusion perhaps a touch too far. He had not meant to cause this level of chaos and yet- nor was he willing to take the blame for it entirely.

"And I suppose she is blameless, is she?"

Frost's head gestured toward the unfortunate Emerance. The poor woman appeared nothing short of nervous in front of Alexander as she sat almost meekly upon that chair- watching the confrontation occurring before her as if she were nothing short of innocent. The woman, Frost suspected, had long since discovered the truth of his and Alexander's relationship. In at least so much as she did not believe Frost to be the owner of that cafe and yet- the equine was nothing if not determined to go down with that metaphorical ship. Frost, at that moment, boldly insisted Alexander was fired for his poor customer service. A rare and genuine look of disbelief seemed to register momentarily upon Alexander's features. The Hunter briefly repeated those words back as Frost nodded. Yes, he was fired. Alexander's sudden insistence that, if he was fired, Frost would have to clean up that mess himself however seemed to coax that look of disbelief to Frost's own features in turn. Alexander shifted to glance over his shoulder, summoning one of the barista's to bring a bucket and mop. The young woman scurried to do as she was asked, only for Alexander to reach abruptly forward, sizing Frost by the collar of his shirt and hauling him up from his seat and onto his feet.

"Alex! Hey!"

That word of protest was all but ignored as the barista hurriedly brought those cleaning supplies to Alexander only for the hunter to thrust them into Frost's hands in turn. The ancient Hunter moved to step backward then, flopping into the chair Frost himself had occupied only moments ago before insisting that Frost better 'get at it'. The silence that filled the room was veritably icy. No one amongst those few remaining patrons huddled in the far corner, nor those gathered members of staff hardly dared interject as equine and rider seemed to eye one another all over again. It had been....well over a year since Frost had seen fit to challenge Alexander upon anything. All their 'arguments' to date, so having occurred while he wore his equine skin. Frost never yet having managed to buck Alexander from his back despite his efforts. This disagreement was so surely one of the first to occur while Frost remained in his human state and yet- how little his present form mattered in any sense. That battle of wills was perhaps overdue. Frost's own dominant nature was loath to yield to Alexander on this, even despite how readily he knew what Alexander expected of him and how decidedly....right the Hunter was in this being his fault to begin with. That rightness however, was so hardly what Frost held any desire to argue. That demand he clean and in front of those staff and patrons was so surely where he took issue. Cleaning was....beneath him.

That silence seemed to persist all the more, Alexander's gaze hardly wavered from his own. Just how serious the Hunter was could hardly be denied. Challenges agianst Alexander rarely, if ever, ended well- how quickly Frost had learned that and yet oh- how readily his own Alpha blood all but burned in his veins today! He was not used to backing down, not over something like that. The warhorse, in that moment, perhaps truly displaying the very nature of his species and that combat he was so decidedly trained to face head on.

"No."

That singular word prompted a soft gasp from one of those huddled patrons in the far corner. Even humans, it seemed, could sense that silent battle for dominance unfolding upon the cafe floor. Frost shifted just enough to lean that mop agianst the nearest table, the bucket placed beside it as his arms folded across his chest again- his head offering a soft shake, lashings of white hair falling back over his violet gaze as it remained, unyielding, upon Alexander all the same. Frost, boldly (and perhaps foolishly), forcing his rider to earn that yield from him.