they argued my right to ascension

The mention of his 'astonishing' grace only further seems to darken the man's mood as he makes some effort to detangle himself from the foot stool that had assaulted him with it's poorly placed position, Azrael refusing to acknowledge that his own rush of speed in an effort to escape the 'voodoo' of the woman had perhaps been the cause behind much of the incident, his own irritation this time, perhaps fortunately, aimed towards the furniture rather than the woman herself. He chose to ignore the manner in which she seemed to actually find his power amusing, heading for the chair she had dictated he sit within, her words met with little more than a typical male grunt by way of response, seemingly content to ignore her for several more seconds as he peeled himself from his wet jacket before speaking.

"Don't you think it's polite to keep your magic to yourself? I would far prefer you do not make any attempts to touch me- thank you."

That deep baritone voice manages to remain rather curt all the same, each word laced with a clear undercurrent of disdain, though whether it is for her, her species or the apartment in general remains to be seen. He had already allowed himself far to much liberation with one witch, allowing himself any further reason to be called into question would be nothing short of utterly foolish. Perhaps she was a rather....pretty creature, yet he remains utterly determined not to acknowledge this, focusing his gaze determinedly upon the fire before him instead- assured his senses would alert him all the same should she suddenly become hostile and yet truly he was beginning to notice a pattern of sorts with the witches of this town. They all seemed to possess an utter determination to befriend him- although why he hardly knew. His.....demeanour was normally more than enough to keep them away in the few times his species alone had not proven a sufficient deterrent and yet, just like Serafina, this woman seemed utterly oblivious to his attempts to drive her away, if not irritate her so entirely she would demand he leave. It is simply...easier that way. Becoming involved with any other species beyond his job description would lead to nothing but being hauled before an inquest and multiple demands to explain why he was some sort of sympathizer to their cause, attempting to befriend them, else allow any emotion other than dislike for them was merely a waste of time. In the end- everyone died.

The almost ethereal glow that seems to surround the Hunter slowly begins to fade the more he begins to focus upon the fire and not his own irritation at being assaulted by a footstool, the sweet, high pitched sound of the woman's laughter still readily ringing within his ears before the sounds of cooking seemed to draw his attention away from the flickering flames that slowly begun to heat his frame and stir some semblance of comfort back into his stiff limbs. That the woman evidently possesses some sort of skill within the kitchen is readily clearly, those golden amber eyes watching her from beneath a few loose strands of semi-wet golden hair. It is perhaps the one skill he has never truly been able to master. Cooking, in his younger years, had simply never been performed by men. It was a woman's job and yet by this same token he had never truly learned how, forever having the company of a female companion to meet that particular need. He rises almost entirely silently, the faintest of breezes signalling his movements to any astute enough to truly notice as he appears now behind the girl, hardly daring enough to touch her and yet evidently curious all the same as he merely stands silently behind her, glancing quietly over her shoulder to watch what she does. He has never seen bread...prepared in this fashion, much less the addition of meat and cheese, eyes narrowing slightly in some vague passing of curiosity before the tautness to her frame assures him she is about to turn, the man re-appearing within his chair mere milliseconds before she does, having returned himself to the same position as if he had truly never left- holding no desire to query her cooking or have her believe he was interested. At least he knew she was hardly going to poison him.

The tray placed on the coffee table between them is eyed with perhaps far more suspicion then is probably needed, those molten gold eyes following her movements all the same, waiting until she had taken her own cup of tea and sipped from it before reaching for the other cup, taking several moments to inspect it before calmly bringing it to his lips- her words momentarily allowing for an almost genuine smile against the tea cup.

"Maybe it will teach Davante not to leave things out."

It was little more than a soft musing and yet by far the most politely spoken of any of his words so far as the Hunter moved to lean backwards now, muscular shoulder rolling easily as one leg folded over the other in perhaps the first truly relaxed pose he has so far managed- despite the tautness his frame continues to maintain all the same, as if he is unable to let go entirely and merely.....be. He reaches easily enough for one of the sandwiches she had made, eyeing it once more before biting down, one eye lifting slightly in some vague semblance of surprise at how....nice it was before continuing to eat in silence, very near inhaling the sandwich before her words saw those golden eyes shift briefly towards her a final time. She understood why he didn't like magic being used so openly? Had he not been eating he may well have scoffed openly at that. She could believe all she wanted and yet truly he is hardly inclined to think she has any idea why he hates it so very, very much- maybe it hardly matters.

"I do not use 'magic' and I assure you my weaponry is significantly different to whatever abracadabra nonsense your species goes on with."

One eye merely lifts, as if daring the woman to form an argument against him, that hand lifting to run through his hair once more, pulling weakly at the wet strands that forever fall into his gaze as he manages a final sigh of sorts.

"Look- you're not under any obligation to actually engage me in conversation, I am used to not being spoken to and I am perfectly happy to sit here and not talk to you while I wait for your brother. I....appreciate your lunch efforts but I do not actually require conversation from you, much less a discussion in regards to your magical prowess, alright?"

He pauses only long enough to assure the woman actually understands that he truly does not expect her to attempt to carry on a conversation with him, any talk of magic clearly having made him distinctly uncomfortable to the point he rather subtly moves to adjust his chair to position himself more towards the fire and less towards her, the woman's...pleasing appearance doing nothing to help his resolve in this regard. He has no desire to talk of magic- not with a witch, clearly determined to act rather like a child and attempt to more or less ignore her now, aiming to prevent himself engaging in any conversation he shouldn't, much less pay attention to the fact he has decided she is not wholly unattractive. The sooner Davante arrived- the better. Assuring this, at last, may finally deter the woman from her attempts to befriend him.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread