they argued my right to ascension

Had he been aware, even remotely, that she had taken to comparing him to some monster within a murder mystery novel he may well have had the sense to take offense at it- even despite the sound logic that would have existed within her thoughts. Perhaps he had detached himself from a certain amount of his humanity, at least, enough to allow him to force himself to continue to exist each day without collapsing into a pile of utter despair and yet within that same motion he had deemed it necessary to detach him from them as well, they other beings distinctly not human, refusing to class himself as either and yet.....if he was not human and not supernatural monster- what was he? The question had plagued him for far longer then he cared to remember, such nostalgia having only proved dangerous in the past, inflicting his mind with thoughts and emotions he would rather forget. Perhaps he should have asked the witch for a potion to make him forget. That, he thinks, would have been far more worth his time then the charade he was currently viewing. Then again, there was always the chance her magic wouldn't work upon him, it happened sometimes, Hunter's often proving rather resilient to the lower levels of magic. Either way he directs her to continue, else at least attempt to amuse him for a little while before he does away with her, the man content to ponder the shame of it still- such a pretty girl too. So unfortunate she chose this life, else had been born into it, the delicacies of witch affairs were foreign to him and not anything he particularly desired to question Serafina about. That he had taken a witch as his....what had she called it? Friend with benefits? Was bad enough as it was (he's quite the hypocrite really), he hardly desired question his own actions any further today. Her dismissive 'fine' and begrudging continuation seeming to soothe him for now.

At least until she desires to question the very conscience he had only moments ago been pondering. For half a moment he considers whether or not the pretty young witch was in possession of more then just one power, features frowning ever so slightly as she hastened to explain, her well-placed guess- for it would seem that is what it is, failing to truly dispel his concern. For now however, he simply makes a determined attempt to ignore the many in which her voice noticeably softens and she very near gazes at him from beneath the length of her eyes lashes. He would almost believe her flirtatious if he didn't know any better. She was, he is sure, simply trying to endear herself to him in some effort to escape the sting of his knife or bullet- what other reason would she have? That she may very well simply like his appearance, truly, has never occurred to him. For all his years Azrael truly remains almost oblivious to the notions of women. They were an entirely different species and one he is assured he will never understand. He merely remains silent in response however, refusing to offer her any further display of his demeanour other than the guarded indifference he offers now, waiting, expectant, for her to continue with the task he has given her.

She speaks again then, seemingly having given up on attempting to convince him she is not a witch when her very form disagrees. He can sense her, every part of her, each vein within her aglow with a magic almost palpable to him and yet just out of his reach all the same. It is a agitating feeling, one he still felt even within Serafina's presence and yet, over time, that feeling had...lessened. Would it be the same for any magical being he spent a prolonged amount of time with? It was a ridiculous thought entirely however, one he surely shouldn't have even considered and one he dismissed hurriedly, focusing the gold of his gaze back upon the woman now as she mentioned some of her potions needing more of a push.

"I know which of your potions are magical, I assure you- I can feel them."

The words are little more then a murmur, though offered to her all the same, a Hunter Fun Fact of sorts, though whether younger beings of his profession were capable of it remained to be seen, the man hardly seeing need to elaborate further. Some part of him mildly impressed with her honesty to so far, at least, he perceived her as genuinely honest, whether or not she was remained to be seen. It would be distinctly within her benefit however- to tell him only the truth. The words that followed however, were curious in themselves, the man distinctly aware that she was attempting to appeal to some well buried part of himself and yet despite his awareness of it he is not as entirely immune to it as he likes to believe. It had been....a long time since he had ever discussed 'helping' people in any fashion, a goal he had once based his life around and indeed, had he still been the man he once was- he would have found some sort of fascination in her words and her ideals, so similar to his own- or what they had once been before his....accident. She moves to lean against the table then, her efforts to appear calm truly heroic as she offers her name- though the golden-haired Hunter remains silent still, merely watching her a few moments left as if attempting to decide, perhaps, whether or not he would allow himself to be convinced by her littler performance.

"Manner's...."

He offers at last, almost absentmindedly.

"...are not at all what they used to be, of that I assure you. You would have enjoyed the thirties, I think- when men remembered how to treat women and women actually knew how to dance."

He remembers it, far more clearly then he surely should, the forties and even some of the fifties having been much that same before things begun to change, slowly, but changing still- though much of Azrael perhaps- still remained the same. He never had truly been a big fan of change. History however, was not the topic of the hour, his gaze returning to the vials of potions that rested beside her still- along with the one still within his hand. A soft sigh leaving his lips at last.

"I will make you a deal- Sorcha. If you want to sell your...herbal medications then that I will permit, there is nothing technically illegal about that. If I catch you selling anything of the magical variety again however- I will not give you a second chance."

She had, he supposed, at least managed to entertain him for the past fifteen minutes or so and for that, else for reminding him for the barest moment of what he had once been- he is willing to allow her to see another day, the barest offer of.....some sort of kindness perhaps, though it had come with clear specifications. No one needed to know he had let her go, though he would not permit it a second time. Witches, it would seem, always had been something of a weakness for him. For Were's he held no mercy. Disgusting creatures. As for the potion she had given him, he simply moves to tuck it somewhere beneath his jacket, one hand reaching around behind him to fish his wallet from his jeans pocket, tossing a crumpled bill onto the table beside her by way of payment- though how long it would take her to realise it was no less than a one hundred dollar bill remained to be seen. Money never had really meant very much to him- he had simply begun collecting it over the years. It was pocket change and no more.

"Do you understand? If I catch you with magic again I will not stop to chat. It's Azrael."

He paused, briefly, waiting to assure himself she understood the conditions of the...pardon he was offering her. Next time he simply would not hesitate.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread