Just as he'd expected, the witch hardly seemed to give a shit about her little "breaking and entering" approach on coming over to steal his little sister away to do whatever it was the two women enjoyed doing in each other's company. It was hardly something that Lazaruz ever bothered himself with enough to ask Elain what it was that she and the white-haired woman and bane of his existence would run off doing. He just assumed that they would go shopping. Whether it be new clothes to fill their already stuffed closets, new trinkets that might just so happen to catch their attention, or perhaps â€" with any lucky â€" Ellie might want to go grocery shopping. The dark hunter always enjoyed raiding those bags that she would bring home after being out with her unfortunate best friend in hopes that he might find something delectable within the brown paper or opaque plastic. Sure, he'd get smacked for it if he did happen to find something worth his time buried at the bottom of the bag, but it did little to phase the man as he would snicker at the honey-blonde woman and proceed to help himself. Elain hardly ever fought him much anymore, but he had enough respect for the young woman to leave something behind for her â€" even if it was meant only for her. They were family. And family shared snacks and baked goods, right? Besides, he knew that she could hardly stay mad at him long, and it wasn't as though he did it to be malicious. He loved her. No, he never said those words aloud, but she knew that he did and that was enough for Lazarus.

Dark forest eyes narrow further at the witch's careless shrug and nonchalant words and he can feel that familiar prick of annoyance find him in that moment. Finally. A normal feeling towards the damn woman that he didn't have to fight against."Shit, why not just move in then? At least you'll have a reasonable excuse. Plus, I'm sure Ellie wouldn't mind a roommate. Or you can always share the couch with him", the man replies nonchalantly, a wolfish grin etching into his chiseled features as he nods his head towards the were, vaguely curious to see if perhaps it would get a rise out of either of them. Simply because Lazarus and Donovan were friends â€" unorthodox friends, it usually took being around the two men more to see that brotherly bond they shared â€" didn't meant that the dark hunter didn't find some sort of mild amusement and pleasure in "dancing with danger", even though both men knew perfectly well that Lazarus would be quite capable of handling the were should things get pushed a little too far, forcing the tattooed man to shift into that wild animal within. Like most male friends, they've had a pointless brawl or two just because they could. They had to do something with all that testosterone that filled their hot blood, right? He can see the way that Donovan looked less than thrilled about being in the less than warm and friendly presence of Lazarus and Vhalla, likely picking up on the various types of tension that moved like static electricity between the pair, but it wasn't like Lazarus expected to come down the stairs and more or less bump into the woman he really had been avoiding due to their previous... company that they'd kept with one another.

Moving into the kitchen, entirely too aware of the way that those brilliant eyes explore his bare torso, her scent betraying the thoughts that he himself struggled constantly against keeping out of his mind, he instead decides to take that sliver of male satisfaction in knowing that he'd left a rather lasting impression on the witch. At least it was a mutual battle the two fought, even if they refused to fight it together like they probably should. Even attempting to war against those damn thoughts and feelings together would mean confrontation, and Lazarus wasn't entirely sure that confrontation was a good idea. That's how they found themselves in their current state, after all. If he just would have left her alone, if he had been able to snuff out that worry he'd felt after their brief sparring match, that night never would have happened and they would just be at each other's throats like the two predators that prowled beneath their surfaces. Settling in that chair with his signature wolfish grin tugging at those lips as he offered her a drink of that whiskey, she's nearly reaching out before her gaze drops and that fire he remembers well, before everything that had happened between them, flashes across her gaze as she gives him a death glare. Did the remainder of his late night last night bother her? How interesting. He watches as she turns away from Lazarus with arms folded across her chest, the man having no qualms about the view he got as she took that typical stance full of her usual pissy attitude that was almost a turn on for the man at this point before he has to remind himself what happened last time when she gave him that look.

Content to be the one currently being ignored, he lifts that glass bottle grasped in one hand back to his lips and draw another deep drink from that smooth amber liquor, the warmth filling his stomach in a much more satisfying way that the were's coffee. Not that Lazarus didn't enjoy the occasional black coffee. He just much preferred whiskey or rum to the bitter dark liquid so many relied on to wake up in the morning. Maybe Donovan has some Bailey's in the fridge I can sneak into a cup. The tattooed man did always have a sweeter taste when it came to liquor. The dark hunter would hardly put it past his companion to have some of the finer alcohols hiding somewhere. Making a brief mental note to search the refrigerator draws and perhaps even the cabinets later when Donovan went off to do his thing, he looks past those delicious womanly hips of the witch to watch dark forest eyes glitter wickedly, wolfish grin growing ever so slightly at the annoyance that flickers across the were's features at the hunter's snide remark. Sometimes, he made it all too easy for Lazarus to flick him shit. He can't help but lift his brow in silent question at the answer Donovan gives him and the witch, but he shrugs."So then I take it the whole 'hunting people' part hasn't been going well?", he remarks coyly again, knowing that Donovan would get exactly what Lazarus meant by 'hunting', the dark hunter knowing perfectly well that it was just code for the were seeking out male companionship for those twilight hours.

And just like that, the tables were turned as Donovan decides to direct a snide remark Lazarus' way. Almost instantly, that familiar aggression flashes across dark forest eyes as they narrow on the were. Oh, Lazarus knew that Donovan liked to give him just as much shit as Lazarus did him. It was only fair in the end, he supposed. But that topic was definitely not up for discussion or review."How about you just mind your own business?", the dark hunter snaps back then without a moment's hesitation, even if those tenor tones ushering forth in a subtle snarl of warning were every bit hypocritical right down to the last syllable as he again takes another heavy drink from the whiskey bottle that his fingers had yet to release their hold on, though the sound of glass hitting gently against the wooden surface of the table announces his pause in the usual morning binge drinking he'd taken to lately as just another failing attempt to get the witch and how hungry the mere memory of her lips, of her skin against his, and that damn feelings he couldn't seem to bury no matter how hard he might try. It is then that Donovan poses the witch with a question that Lazarus entirely expected to come up eventually, and while the dark hunter knew the nature of her... occupation, he'd made good on his word to keep her employment confidential."Yeah, what would you call that, Vhal? Customer service?", Lazarus asks in tenor tones as that wolfish grin finds his features, clearly looking to see just how mad she really was at him for whatever reason she decided to be as such. If anything, he was almost relieved that things had shifted to what they'd been like before that night. Dark forest eyes now turn to the witch who still seems adamant on keeping her back him. Not that he was complaining of course as eyes were content to rove over her curves silently, but after enjoying the sights to be seen, he can't help but flick his gaze to the back of her head, waiting to see just what sort of lie she would come up with to try and satisfy the were with. This should be interesting.