Lazarus had always done well with women. Most of the time. He was devilishly charming when he wanted to be, but gentle or kind was certainly not his forte, though lucky for him the female companionship that he had a tendency to attract were hardly the type looking for a guy ready to settle down with a house and children; two things that the man with messy caramel locks was far from ever even considered a possibility in his life. It was not that he could not commit to a family, he'd been nothing but devoted to his parents and the fierce protector of his little sister's purity and innocence. Family meant just as much to the man as it did his little sister, if not perhaps even more. Some might think that it was unusual for a brother and sister to live together, but there was the advantage of cost efficiency and the ability to ensure that there weren't any punks trying to bark up the wrong tree. Elain was always too kind to tell anyone off, at least this far in her young adult life. He knew well for various reasons how deceitful men could be, and though he would never outrightly admit it, he worried that some scumbag would try and pull the wool over her eyes just to sleep with her. If that ever happened... well, let's just say there was a damn good change that Lazarus would end up incarcerated for twenty years to life in a prison where killers went. He supposed that it would only happen if he got caught red-handed, though so this was definitely not something that the man would even think twice about or bat an eye at. Touch his sister, touch anyone he cares for, and that person is as good as six feet under. Maybe even sixty feet if he had his way. The man wasn't necessarily known to take it easy on the current objects of his rage. Ask the number of punching bags he's had to replace and the number of times he's had to patch up a hole in the wall... But settling down with a family of his own? He just wasn't husband material... or father material. Then, there were those times when he just couldn't stand the estrogen.

Perhaps that was why he was not keen on this particular situation he'd walked into. Had he taken a moment to take in the smells of the townhouse, he would have known that the damn witch was here. But fuck! This was his house. Well, obviously it was his home as well as Elain's, but never in a million years would he have thought he would end up running into the same beautifully aggravating face that he'd encountered last night!? Sacrosanct was bigger than their hometown, and yet of all the damn people his little sister had to bring home with her for dinner, it was HER?! It was almost to that point in his thought process that he found it incredibly unlikely for such an encounter to be pure chance, and he didn't trust the white-haired witch as far as he could through her, and that wasn't very far despite his increased strength being the dark hunter that he was. He never really had many problems with witches or warlocks, mostly his supernatural hunts were that of were-creatures due to their more dangerous tendencies when they were out of control. He never cared to get into with a magic-wielder, though in the same instant he never really bothered to stop and talk to those he was about to pummel into the ground. Like that douchebag that he decided to beat on someone s considerable amount smaller than himself. He remembers for a fleeting moment how he'd befriended Donovan, who as fate would have it happened to be a were-creature. It wasn't like they'd been kids growing up, the best of friends that walked around town stirring up trouble or going fishing with their fathers. Nah, it was nothing like that. If anything, their friendship was more of an accident than anything else. Lazarus had been in one of his usual moods that day on campus, and he could have chosen to be anywhere else like checking out the cheerleaders as they practiced their routines or something, but that wasn't how that day went, and by the end of it, an unexpected (and most unlikely) of friendship.

So, he had to wonder, with dark forest eyes narrowed furiously onto the white-haired woman from last night surprising him in his own home, if she'd planned this. It sure felt like she planned this. Witches being capable of magics that he hardly understood, there was hardly a doubt in his mind that she could have somehow felt or seen that the honey-blonde woman was Lazarus' little sister. It had to be more than just sheer coincidence that Vhalla and Elain had bumped into each other wherever it was his sister had gone off to a few hours ago. He just could not seem to excuse the fact that of the thousands of bodies that moved through these streets, it was this one wretched woman than his little sister had decided she wanted to make a friend out of. The one woman he'd found so far on this planet that he absolutely could not stand, and it had to be her. Of all the... His train of thought snaps away from those infuriating odds as the woman grabs his index finger and gives it a jerk. Now, had he not been so dissolved by the red mist that settled over him, he might have seen that grin widen and the amusement dancing like fire in those brilliant blue eyes that narrowed right back at him, but being true to his temperamental nature, he hadn't been focused like his father would have demanded him to be. So, of course he stumbles at her sudden twisting and though it didn't hurt, it was enough to take that fury in his blood and magnify it by a thousand. Her words are like gasoline to the flames, that false innocence hardly doing a thing."If it wasn't for my sister, they'd be more than threats", he snarls menacingly. She releases his finger just as he snaps his arm away from her, jaws still clenched in rage as he lingers for a moment before his sister's words threaten him now. It was almost like a bucket of ice-cold water on a wildfire; not enough to put it out but only just enough to cool the heat as he turns sharply away from the women, shooting a glare at his sister for the nickname she used.

He hated that nickname. Hated it with a fiery passion that a thousand white suns could never even compare to. And when the witch decided to use it with that sickening delight he wanted to just rip out of her throat like some rabid beast, he feels his jaw clench even moreso."Don't call me that", he growls to the white-haired woman as he slumped into the chair. He is half considering to just walk out the front door and find himself a nice bar to indulge himself in just to get him away from the women, away from her, dark forest eyes staring at the door with all the serious contemplation of a strategist though he decides against it. He wouldn't leave the witch alone with his sister. No way. So instead he grab the remote on the arm of the chair and turns on the television. Of course a show would come on that has to do with nature.... Anything was better than listening to two woman cackle like two hyenas, the man stubbornly doing his best to drown out their voices as they talked contentedly, amusingly among themselves. He is almost entirely engulfed in the television before the damn witch speaks again, bringing that near-focus to a screeching halt as his dark forest gaze snaps back to her. There she was, so clearly pleased with herself as her snide words slither over plush lips. The muscle in his jaw flexes, narrowed eyes fixing her with his own predatory gaze that filled with seething hate."How about go fuck yourself", he snaps back. Next time, she wouldn't be so lucky. Next time, it'd be her on her back with a cut cheek. Then again, he'd rather there not even be a next time. He turns sharply back to the nature show, once again forcing himself to focus on anything and everything that wasn't his little sister and her damn witch friend, wondering only briefly where the hell Donovan was. A little more testosterone certainly sounded good right about now.