they argued my right to ascension

The tall blonde easily hung up the mobile in his hand, stuffing the phone back into his pocket with far more disdain then the device surely deserved. What did they know? What business of it was theirs to ask after what he did and with who? It was his own fault, he supposed. He'd spent thirty years being entirely predictable, spending his nights off upon the couch in his apartment berating the fact he was forced to have a night off at all. That he would disappear for a night had apparently attracted someone's attention. Azrael refusing anyone within the Council fold the knowledge that he had for once, in thirty years, actually had a date. One hand reached up, fingers running through the thick white gold of his hair, a soft sigh forced from his lips, releasing some of the tension that seemed to simmer below the surface. He was almost thankful, truly, that he had some work to attend to today, forcing his mind away from the conversation he had finished only moments ago. Carter always was far too involved for Azrael's liking. The man was beneath him in the ranks, a far younger Hunter, one still afflicted with some delusion that there was almost something enchanting about this wretched existence. Hmm, perhaps that was why he so disliked the man. That- in for his inability to mind his own business. Someone higher up surely having mentioned something all the same, Carter would never be nearly bold enough to irritate him without actual cause and yet fortunately Azrael hardly had to answer to such an underling in regards to his whereabouts several nights ago.

The whole thing was better forgotten. Azrael moves to round the corner easily, several humans scurrying to get out of his path, the man well known in this part of town, his Hunter Status hardly a secret here and yet that was entirely by design. The human population knew who to call when something was amiss, the supernatural section knew entirely who to avoid and appease all at once, his reputation often preceding him in most cases and Azrael often found such a thing entirely becoming. After all, he had far less work to do when most supernatural beings deliberately sought to avoid him, or in the least, not openly irritate him or move against his requests. He had hardly risen this high in the council after all, by merely 'requesting' things of the supernatural population, his skill with a blade and a bullet had become entirely well known enough to prevent his use of them most of the time. The Council hardly seeming to mind, provided he met his quota each month and truly Azrael always found there was someone to kill. Today however, his business is far less entertaining. In fact it is downright dithering and yet necessary all the same. New business, especially those owned by Witches were something almost intriguing to the man. Ever since the nightmare that was Syn had been allowed to fluctuate the very idea of supernatural owned business was....distasteful to most. Azrael willing enough to permit them- provided they followed a certain code of conduct.

This one was barely a few days old and yet it had attracted enough business to attract him in turn, the man pausing briefly outside the shop front, eyeing it a moment, several people milling about inside. The idea of Tarot Card Readings afforded the eternally youthful man a roll of his eyes, lips parted to mutter about the fucking stupidity of people before he moved to step within the store, pulling back the hoody of his sleeveless jacket- releasing that wealth of white gold hair. His senses extend rapidly, the presence of one witch, one human and one fairy alerted readily to him. The single, human customer merely looked up from the spice rack she seemed to be browsing, affording him limited attention. Honestly he was beginning to wonder if such a vapid species as humans were worth protecting at all, golden gaze turned instead towards the counter and the fairy man whom seemed to be engaged in rapt conversation with the witch. At least until the Hunter's presence seems to register within the fae man as he turns, the creature scrambling violently away from both the witch and the counter, both arms up as if to somehow profess his innocence. What a fucking moronic creature.

"Just get out."

The other man hardly needs to be told twice, racing for the door as Azrael returns his attention to the witch, gaze roving over her a moment, searching for any wholly obvious weapon and finding none. His own myriad of powers linger around him ad yet he makes no effort to reach for any of them, merely holding them ready lest the Witch prove unhappy with his presence as his arms simply fold across his chest, regarding her evenly now.

"We need to talk."

His voice is even, flat, affording her no true tone other than a vague apathy with the whole affair. Witches, he supposed, were the least offensive of any of the supernatural beings, human's truly- merely misguided ones.

"What exactly are you selling? Or more truthfully I suppose, pretending your selling? Please don't lie to me, I don't have the patience today."

He rarely had the patience any day, truth be told.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread