they argued my right to ascension

Had he been aware, to any extent, of the magical influences upon him in this regard he would surely have slain them both where they stood. It is merciful perhaps that in his current state of inhibition he remains wholly oblivious to the vast majority of what exists around him. How strong was that drink? More so, why had he actually proceeded to drink it? His head shakes, attempting to clear the haze that had seemed to settle over it, the very sort of haze that did not often afflict him unless he had downed multiple drinks- a habit he had long since given up after coming to the realisation that alcoholism was hardly a cure for any condition save his sanity. Whatever Damon was still prattling on about was very near ignored as he manages to steel himself in such a fashion that sees him summon the ability to actually stand- no small feat truly, before demanding they get on with this ridiculous charade if only so that he might go home and...collapse onto his bed, any thoughts of anything else rapidly seemingly wholly unimportant. True to form however, the man remains content to complete his mission all the same, muttering about vampires as he does before seeming to take a sudden humour in himself, one Damon, in the least, seemed to appreciate as Isolt stalked away with the distinct assurance that she wanted no part in this. Perhaps it was for the better, she seemed far less willing to indulge his request then her male companion and in truth Azrael is hardly of a state of mind to truly argue with the girl, gesturing once more for Damon to lead the way- truly hoping this was to be a short and efficient inspection. The pat on the back however, light and inoffensive as it was seems to almost momentarily sober the Hunter, golden eyes narrowed distinctly upon the vampire now- unspoken disapproval clear in every taut muscle of his form. Some beliefs, it would seem, transcend any level of inhibition the Hunter utterly unwilling to have a vampire touch him.

"If we could please get on with this, just...ignore your...girlfriend or...whatever she is. Just go."

The sooner they finished the sooner he could simply go home, the man hardly willing to wait for Damon and Isolt to come to an agreement on his presence here, the beginnings of a splitting headache beginning to work its way within his skull as one hand runs back through his tousled, golden locks. The sudden soft, feminine voice of another however seems to splice through even that mist of alcohol, head jerking towards the woman he knew it to belong to as the gold of his gaze finds the blue grey of her own in surprise. What was he doing here? Was it not a more prudent question to ask why she was within the confines of a vampire bar? Whatever words had sprung to his lips are mercifully silenced, the man suddenly and intensely aware of Damon beside him. That his affections for this particular witch were more then obvious and well known to Damon himself had never truly occurred to the Hunter, at least, not within his current state and yet even so he has no desire to flaunt them before such a group or within such an openly public place. He knows, as anyone here surely knows, that whatever feelings he might have for the raven-haired witch are more than simply forbidden by nature of their species- the rest of The Council itself sure to come down upon him like a ton of bricks for even a mere rumour of such a thing as this.

He is...reluctant to t engage with her and yet the very fabric of his mind seems unwilling to consider the problem before him, as if all logical thought ceases to make itself known- leaving the Hunter merely staring in her direction before some part of him forces a response.

"I......what?"

It is perhaps the most unintelligent sentence he has ever offered the witch, unable to remember what she had even truly said, head shaking again in another effort to clear the fog from his mind, leaning back against the bar- far more for support then any effort to appear relaxed.

"I.....am working. I........since when do you ever use my full name?"

That he has, in that single moment, seized upon a loose fabric in the cloth of Isolt's illusion offers some evidence that despite the vampires combined efforts, some part of his mind (a rather small part) is still functioning, seizing upon this inconsistency- though mercifully, for Isolt at least, he is far to inhibited to truly consider the implications of his own discovery- shaking the thought away now.

"Why are you in a vampire bar, Sera-fina?"

He adds her full name on at the last moment, stumbling over them, the shortening of her name seeming far to....familiar- the man hastening to add her full calling some utterly poor attempt to cover it still.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread