Never in his life would he had thought he would find himself in a position such as this one. Perhaps that was because the dark hunter would have more or less given anything and everything he had not to end up where he was. He was known for many things, but being gentle or worried was definitely not high on the list. Actually, those traits weren't even on the damn list. It was like they might have been written there at one point when he'd been a little kid, so very young and so very moldable, but as his life progressed and he grew older with every passing day, they had been erased, leaving behind only the imprints in that thin paper of what things could have been, lines that were once undecipherable like they really hadn't existed from the very beginning. Asshole. Prick. Douchebag. These were all very accurate if not precise descriptive terms that could easily be used in those moments where one might want to try and sum the man up. He was selfish, always looking to get whatever just so happened to be within his interests at any given time. It couldn't even be said that he was selfless with his little sister. While he would never openly admit it to anyone, it wasn't really hard to see that Lazarus was fiercely protective of Elain. Maybe even possessive wasn't an entirely inaccurate word, either. She was too good for this world, too kind and warm and bright. If the world hadn't already shown the siblings that the world had a knack for being unfair and cruel, caring little what it took away from those that walked through life, he didn't know what could. He'd promised to guard that light from those that would want to snuff it out, promised his parents long ago that he would look out for her. But was that what he was really doing anymore? Or was he only using that obligation, that unspoken oath as her big brother, as a way to justify his own selfish reasons for protecting her from the world even when she didn't want it? She was the last of the light that he had in his world, and letting anything or anyone take that away... it would be his undoing. There would be no hope for him if he lost her.

Yet, here he was. Once again helping the witch on that seemingly endless walk back to the warehouse. Dark forest eyes would glance down at her from time to time, watching her carefully as his senses honed in on her condition to ensure that nothing took an unexpectedly rapid decline for the worst. He really didn't feel like having to flag down a cab and rush her to the hospital, and he definitely didn't feel like carrying her the rest of the way to her place. She seemed to be hanging in there well enough though, much to his relief. All he had to hope for now was that once he got her into some dry clothes and didn't have to worry about the risk of hypothermia getting worse, he would be able to get away from her. As far away as possible. It was an infuriating battle between wanting to avoid her at all costs and wanting to... do the opposite. For a moment, all he could think about as he guided her back to the warehouse was getting her situated so that she would be okay and making a quick exist. He would readily say that he was far from happy about seeming to get himself into scenarios where he couldn't just walk away, like she almost needed him lest worse things happen â€" since even she should be able to admit that she was far from invincible, Lazarus knew that he wasn't â€" and there was just no getting around it, but there was that fucking voice in the back of his mind that kept making him feel shit that he didn't want to feel. Ever since that night at the club, it had been a downward spiral and as far as the dark hunter was concerned, everything was just getting out of control. What he wouldn't admit to in a million lifetimes though was that he couldn't stop thinking about that night when they'd slept together. He couldn't stop thinking about how she felt, how she smelled... how she called out his name as they rose to that peak of ecstasy. It was damn near maddening.

When not even all the whiskey he could afford and manage to carry could manage to drown her out of his mind, quiet the beast that paced ravenously across those brittle bars as it growled its gluttonous hunger for her skin, he knew that there was a problem and he was shit outta luck. He'd even managed to drink himself to the point of vomiting, and that was something that hardly ever happened. He hadn't gotten sick off his terrible habit in years... Even when he would party with those so-called friends of his, he never lost his stomach like he did a few days ago. Ellie had been prepared to drag the dark hunter to the hospital for fear of alcohol poisoning or something, but she'd managed to use her healing to help the man find some sort of quiet unconsciousness. Which, of course had Lazarus feeling guilty as fuck because he knew what happened to the honey-blonde woman when she used her healing. And how else would he show his guilt other than to snap at her, tell her that she should have just let him come to on his own? Yes, he was brother of the year for sure. After what felt like an eternity and a day, they were making their way up the stairs and into that lavish apartment with nearly ever surface littered with weapons as usual. She glances over her shoulder at the man with brows raised and words nonchalant, Lazarus eyeing her for a moment and as he's about to reach for the zipper, her remark has him smirking. Why he suddenly found that amusing, even he wasn't entirely sure as that sudden flare of masculine tendencies find him."That's a little on the conceited side. But I suppose I can't argue that point, either", he remarks, his baritones meant to sound uncaring betraying that miniscule amount of amusement and admittance there. Since when did I start agreeing with this woman?!. He finds himself hesitating in the wake of that pull he feels, caught yet again between aggravation towards himself and the situation while battling against those more inappropriate thoughts. She shudders again, barking for him to get that zipper undone it was enough to snap him out of it."Just give me a sec, woman", he answers gruffly though there's little to no force in them as he forces himself to get his shit together.

Cursing those dark hunter senses as he detects that faintly familiar change in her, pretending that her own body's reaction wasn't stirring his own, he slowly moves the zipper down its track. Why so fucking slowly, dude? Are you enjoying yourself? Because I'm not, he snarls inwardly at himself. He didn't want to rip the entire zipper with that unnatural strength of this. At least, that was what he was telling himself. And failing to believe. God, this woman was going to be the death of him. And to think that after all these years, he had once been so sure that it would be Ellie that drove him over the edge of his sanity... Then she has to go tilting her head back, soaked stark hair, bringing her scent ever deeper over his already frayed senses all the while exposing her neck!? Now that was just not even fair... He can feel the beast within him rattling against those frail bars of his self-control, dark forest eyes lingering as his mind takes him to that place where he would bend down to kiss that soft skin... He could practically taste her now... It's when the black fabric drops down and he sees the scars that everything that had been there takes a drastic shift, figurative hackles rising as the fury begins to burn in his blood. He holds his tongue though, knowing fully well what would happen if he didn't. She moves her arms to cover her breasts, empty blue eyes turning to meet narrowed dark forest green as he steps away, needing that distance if he was going to keep himself under control. He hardly expects for Vhalla to tell him why that undead bastard had felt it necessary to mark her with such brutality, brows furrowing together as he shoves away that possessiveness that finds him as she places that trust in him that he didn't even want.

He can't help but watch as the rest of her soaked clothing falls to the floor around her feet, forcing away the anger and instead replaces it with that mask of cool indifference. She was hardly to type that would appreciate pity, and it was hardly that which he felt. No, there were other words for the hated feelings that found the dark hunter then but instead he chooses to trail down her slender legs as she submerges herself into the bath, the bubbles finally concealing all the things that he wanted to touch, to feel, and he visibly relaxes, his thought finally alerting him to the fact that he was now starting to feel the cold of his damp clothes. Dark forest eyes shift over to the shower, contemplating a warm shower himself. A hot shower would help forget everything since alcohol didn't seem to cut it when it came to the white-haired woman, right? Probably not. But it was worth a try. As if she'd read his expression, the man hardly caring as he lifted that shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor with his drenched jacket, she gives him a roguish smile that practically has the beast within him crashing against the bars that contained it. No, no, no, no. We are not doing that again. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't consider it for a second, but he's actually successful in that stubborn nature of his that seemed to always elude him around her, narrowing his gaze slightly at her, though still they lack that once common hostility he had once readily glared at her with."Thanks but no thanks. I'll just use the shower", he answers nonchalantly. Walking over to the shower, he reaches in to turn on the water. Once hot and steaming, he doesn't even bother to look over his shoulder as he discards the rest of his clothes on the bathroom floor and steps into it. She had a point ultimately. They've seen each other naked, why would it matter now? Better yet, why the hell didn't he care? Maybe it was because he didn't have anything to be ashamed of, the man confident in his own muscled build. He didn't even want to think about that. He wanted to think about nothing. Like he used to be able to do with so easily it was ridiculous.

The warm water runs over his bare frame, trickling down the toned plains of his abdomen and the bulge of his pectorals in a way that chases away the chill he hadn't even been entirely aware of. He'd been so focused on Vhalla as they'd made their way here that he hadn't even been concerned about the own ice that has nipped at his skin. A silent yet deep sigh leaves the dark hunter as he lifts those strong hands to run through messy caramel locks as he indulged in the heat and humid of the bathroom. Unbidden, his senses search for the witch as he hears her stirring in the bath, her own breaths coming slow and steady. Why am I even listening like some creep? Giving a rough shrug, he finally turns off the water and reaches for the towel draped over the glass. Briefly rubbing soaked hair with the soft white material and drying the rest of himself before wrapping the towel around his waist. He pushes the door open then, steam rolling off his skin as dark forest eyes watch the white-haired witch still lingering in the oversized bath before falling to the sopping were clothes sprawled across the tile."I'm gonna throw these in the dryer. Need anything?", he practically grumbles as he walks across the bathroom and bends down to start collecting the clothes. Need anything!? Really!? Well, what else was there to say? Nothing, really. With clothes in hand and at arm's length as they drip freely into the bathroom floor, including her suit and undergarments, his cool gaze rests over her as he waits to see if she had any other demands before he decided to start the dryer to bring him one step closer to putting more distance between himself and the woman he wanted to hate and found himself infuriatingly unable to.