they argued my right to ascension

Why?

It was such a simple word, such a simple question and yet that mere phrase within itself seemed to hold far more force behind it then the delicate, raven-haired woman had surely anticipated. Had he not asked himself that very thing over and over about so much more in his life than merely allowing a momentarily lapse in his judgement and the barest tendril of his affection for the woman to slip through? It was perhaps the most haunting of all the words and questions he had ever posed to himself and yet hearing such a question upon the lips of another only seemed to earn the woman a small, momentary frown that provided no true answer. He is obligated, to an extent, to speak the truth when asked, unable to meet the gaze of another and offer them any sort of lie- although why this peculiar trait has so afflicted him he hardly knows. Yet- for all the inconveniences of this forced honesty he is under no obligation to actually speak and for now merely offers little more then silence in response- pushing the question away with little more than a masculine grunt by way of communication, readily turning his attention to the baking she seemed to have been attempting- once more marvelling at the perceived normalcy of such a task. For one of them she seemed remarkably....normal in so many ways and yet despite the more intimate moment they had shared only minutes early her offer to try one readily sees a wariness he is incapable of concealing linger behind the gold of his gaze.

He is lived to long, seen too much, perhaps- to truly allow himself to trust entirely, those instincts within himself flickering like a candle flame once more at the mere offer of a cookie, hand reaching towards it before seeming to pause all the same in this clear indecision- before his demand for somewhere to sit seemed to send the girl into flurry. The golden eyes of the blonde continued to ret upon the woman, once more allowing his gaze to slip ever so slightly towards the hem of her nightgown. When he had been- younger, women would never have worn such things, most nightwear having consisted more often than not of full length garments of silk that concealed every swell and curve of a woman's figure and yet, perhaps, this more modern version is not wholly.....unappealing. The milk and cookies being placed before the chair she has evidently assigned him however readily see his attention return to the task at hand, toned, athletic frame stepping easily towards it before seating himself.

It had been...years since anyone had offered him something so entirely novel as milk and cookies and for a moment or so the Hunter is almost amused at something so wholly innocent- that same indecision seeming to plague him once more before narrowed amber eyes lift to her own.

"If I turn into a goat or cat I will not be all that forgiving."

He is, despite his evident warning, fairly assured she would hardly have been willing to return his kiss had she intended upon turning him into some sort of disagreeable animal- one hand reaching to take up the previously offered Christmas tree shaped cookie, biting down into it before pausing to chew, a look of surprise seeming to linger upon his ever youthful features.

"My Aunt, she used to make these when I was child. Yours are better."

He reaches readily for a second now, the glass of milk pulled towards him as the next cookie is dunked rather unceremoniously into the milk. He hasn't eaten tonight, his own ability to cook so utterly appalling that a treat such as this is very near divine although he offers no further compliment other than his evident desire to eat them all only seeming to remember Serafina as he consumes his fifth cookie- eyes lifting to the woman once more. Was she going to just stand there and watch him eat? Maybe she really didn't have guests often. The suddenly bare plate before him however seems to remind him entirely of how hungry he actually was, surprised perhaps, that he had eaten them all- remaining entirely comfortable in the silence that followed before seeming to resign himself to what needed to be said.

"I did it because I wanted to, because every now and then I can't take being alone anymore and because I am not nearly as strong as I should be. I shouldn't have done it however, because it is utterly forbidden and because nothing good will come from it- in the end."

He hardly needs to explain what he is talking about, one finger lifting to trace the rim of the glass before him- leaving a faint ring of light in it's wake, focusing wholly upon this now as he speaks once more, a sigh upon his lips.

"I cannot be your friend, I can hardly be anything else for you and yet I find myself....fond of you. That is why I kissed you and why some ridiculous part of myself wants to do it again- it would be far easier if you merely told me to leave."

The barest shadow of a simper managed to pass his lips, golden eyes flicking briefly to her own before he moved to abruptly push back from bench, sliding smoothly to his feet. He had always been...impulsive, one of the few traits his Mentor had forever sought to remove from him and yet all these years later it would seem he still retained that same brashness.

"That moment at your door was also not what I came here to give you- for that I need you to direct me towards the largest room in this house. You're not hiding any sort of....witch-like objects anywhere I am going to see them are you? If any furniture in this house comes alive and assaults me I will attack it."

It has been awhile, it would seem- since he has truly had to be......romantic, that ever annoyed manner resting just below the surface of his attempts to be pleasant.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread