His presence, it would seem, has rendered the vampire mute- a true rarity given that the vast majority of supernatural's are content to bludgeon his ears with every expletive they have learned in every language they know at his mere presence. The subtle nervousness and clear discord within the girl is hardly unnoticed and yet it only further precedes to confirm his belief that she is young- if not perilously so. In fact, it was almost as if some tiny part of her was still human, the red-haired woman seeming to betray some sense of innocence, a vulnerability that the years seemed to strip from the undead in time. It happened to them all eventually, whatever glimmer of hope they seemed to cling to in the wake of their transformations eventually seeming to fade like a sputtering fire to transform them into the spiteful, vile creatures his own experiences have taught him vampires are. This one however, at least seemed to still be clinging to what remained of her soul, the woman seeming almost alive, or at least, her evident sense of morality still remained intact and very much salvageable and yet, how long would it truly take before she became that same, twisted, bitter thing they all did. Hmm, maybe he was hardly far from it himself, the man entirely sure he had unwillingly been forced to forfeit his own soul all those years ago to leave even he with a mere slither of the man he had once been- or could have been. Maybe he almost pitied her, maybe, if only for the fact her humanity was still entirely visible, allowing him to believe that once, maybe, she had been a good person and yet with the corruption of her body her mind and soul were surely only a few years behind in their inevitable downfall. Maybe it would be kinder to simply...kill her now.

This brief moment of violent intent is shattered by the woman's sudden ability to speak once more, her broken words merely earning the lift of an eye, the woman only further seeming to display her naive innocence with her mumbled words and yet the very ideology to which she seems to be attempting to express- that she had merely wanted to prevent him from getting hurt is....ridiculous, if not totally laughable within its essence and so very unbelievable that the man is very near brought to laughter himself. His lip merely quirks slightly in response, head shaking softly at the utter irony of this entire conversation, arms folding now loosely upon his chest at the realisation that this may well be the least dangerous vampire he has ever met, a sigh drawn at last from his lips.

"The last time anyone ever told me they didn't want me to get hurt was....31 years ago, I think. In fact I would almost believe you cared if not for the fact of what you are."

Maybe she did care, maybe and yet offering a vampire emotion was nothing but a waste of such a thing and truly, emotion, in regards to Azrael, was a true rarity, his body very nearly having exhausted it's supply of such a thing. His question in regards to her age however, seemed to stir something within the girl, almost as if this seemed to very near steel her resolve despite the nervousness that continued to cling to her stiffly held figure. His assumption, it would seem, had been correct enough in regards to her age, the question returned to him however was yet another surprise. It had been....god....how long since anyone had truly asked him his age? In fact it took almost several moments for the man to attempt to calculate it within his mind.

"I suppose that is a compliment."

His shoulders simply move to roll in a shrug of sorts, as if the matter of his age is hardly an issue despite his own inability to truly come to terms with it himself.

"I'm eighty-one. Although I suppose I still look just as old as I did the day I....met with an act of fate. I was twenty-three, I think. I've been twenty-three a very long time."

He offers the woman barely a moment to digest this information, hardly seeing any reason to deny it from her, incapable of doing so regardless, his inability to lie about anything assuring the answer he gives is correct all the same, allowing silence to descend once more, attempting, silently, to restrain that instinctive desire to kill. He had met his quota for the week, he hardly needed another kill and truly he has only a mild desire to stake the woman before him, he simply...pitied her and the thing she would not doubt become.

"So what the hell happened to you then? Someone like you is hardly a first choice to join the army of the undead. You either ran into a vampire with a vindictive sense of humour or you asked to be changed and I hardly believe that. If you weren't destined to descend into depravity I may well have said......thank you for not letting me get hit by a cab."

It is perhaps as close to a compliment as the man has ever truly given.