It was that god forsaken name she always used, that shouldn't have been able to get under the man's skin and yet it did. About a century ago, she thought it would be quite hilarious if she started calling him 'Jamesy'. No amount of threatening or death glares could get her to stop, now he was convinced she did it because she knew it made him seethe. So, he merely grasps his glass just a touch harder, almost to the breaking point, allowing no emotion to dance across his twisted features. Instead, he tosses her a dry look, following her willowy body to the fridge as she proceeds to yank the door open and drink straight from the gallon. Scowling at the back of her head, he's tempted most days to put himself out of his misery and kill her already, he turns to look back at the flames, tipping back his head to down the rest of that liquor.

"My brandy was much more enjoyable when you were still sleeping," he comments, not bothering to look at the woman as she reaches for that bottle. "I remember stating years ago that I don't appreciate having my belongings touched," he looks at her then, his eyes hooded with a glower, "And that is mine," a touch of a growl coats his lyrics this time, those blue eyes flashing dangerously. The woman bounced from topic to topic, so easily swayed from their current conversation as if she were no more than a child inquiring about the most ridiculous questions. Questioning about him sleeping at all has him throwing her that look of his again, a touch of exasperation so toying at the edges of that mask. Now, that was one of those ridiculous questions he was talking about.

"You know I don't sleep, though, if I had your ability to sleep like the dead, I'm sure I wouldn't enjoy it much," he states dryly though he enlightens her, "I went to go see my nephew; he's been quite corrupted by my brother, I need to undo that. I also need to cleanse this city, there are far too many rapid beasts roaming around," he grounds out, his jaw clenching just as Miss Dupont whines at him. "Don't whine, it's unbecoming," he scolds her, blue eyes traveling to the willowy woman as she sidles closer to him. You would think the man would get used to her being so close, but even after a century together he couldn't get used to it. Nor did he ever believe he would be tied to such a woman for all eternity; he tried to dump her off once, the moment he reached that boundary of that bond of theirs, he could feel himself becoming sick; to the point he could see Death knocking on his front door.

Since then, he no longer tried to wrest himself away from that bond, fearful he would end his own life in the process; so, he managed to make use of her.

Watching her carefully place her hands on either side of his chair has James glaring at her, his body stiffening as she leans in and even goes as far as to sweep his hair away. The glass shatters in his hand just as she dances away from him, "Do not invade my personal space," he snarls quietly at her, his eyes glancing down at the broken shards of glass lining the carpet. "Unless you want me to string you up and lash you," he threatens, though it was an empty threat, he knew it and so did Lise. Shifting in his chair to watch her pick up those bag of chips, he can't help but allow his eyes to roll in their sockets. The amount of food that woman ate never ceased to amaze him. It was as if she couldn't be sated.

As she offers to treat him for his efforts, he merely waves her off. There was nothing she could give that he wanted; and if there was something he wanted, he would merely take it, as he did with all things in his life. The munching of her chips is rather aggravating, James practically cringing at every sound. How she could eat such horrid things was beyond him. Turning back to the fire, he lays his hands on the arm rests, his fingers drumming away. It was clear the woman was going out either way as she demands she would ready herself. Again, he waves her off as she disappears down the corridor; he supposed it was time for the city to accommodate his hunting. He had far too much work to do with Lazarus to enjoy himself, so, he would allow Miss Dupont to accompany him. Pushing himself to a standing position, he moves closer to the fire, waiting for the woman to appear again.

It doesn't take her long to ready herself, the willowy woman appearing once more, those dark locks framing her features. "What are you hungry for?" he drawls out, a touch of wicked excitement blazing in those blue eyes.