For once, he was thankful that he didn't have the day off. Sure, it sounded like a "very Lazlo" thing to say as his little sister would put it when the hunter was groaning and taking his time getting ready for the job that she'd more or less made him go out and look for, but what else was to be expected from him? The man had never really needed a full-time job. Or part-time for that matter. Considering what their family had once done for business, monetary concerns were few and far between for The Darays, and even with the murder of his parents and what they'd left behind for their only two children, the two of them had no true or desperate need for work. If anything, the man only partially blamed Ellie for the fact that he was now a more functioning member of society â€" not that the job he was doing wasn't under the table or anything, of course. The honey-blonde woman just loved pointing out his flaws, but deep down, Lazaruz knew that she only ever did or said the things that she did because she was worried for him. While he was far from the sort to confide in anyone â€" even Ellie â€" about the feelings that would flicker across his dark forest eyes when they weren't hidden beneath his black aviators or furrowed in their more natural brooding way as he would sit there in the armchair back at the townhouse, there was something about the young woman that was capable of seeing through much more than most. All she wanted was for her brother to be happy, and that in turn would make her world all the brighter. So much so that she would even enable his terrible if not potentially dangerous vice on those days where he was in a worse place than was common for him or perhaps even try to get the man to surrender that enduring scowl for the most fleeting of wolfish grins or coy smiles. It was always on these days when she was trying her best to lighten his dark world that Lazarus would feel the faintest longing in his cold, jaded heart to try. It was for only her that her alone that the man might dare to try, even when he knew it would never last.

Yet even on Ellie's most persistent of days to make him do something more with his existence only ever seeming to be the blackened smudge, which he was perfect content with honestly, the honey-blonde woman who serves as the meek light in his life was not the full reason that he'd set out long ago in search for something to do with his extra time instead of waiting for Ellie to get home from her classes at the end of the day. And it is when stark white locks and brilliant blue eyes flicker across his thoughts that has the man shoving his hands further into the pocket of his torn up faded jeans as he makes his way through the streets of Sacrosanct, dark forest eyes narrowing from beneath those black aviators in annoyance. Just like the damn thorn in his side that she was, the witch always managed to find her way into his mind and it was truly infuriating, if not maddening to him. While she'd been off doing gods knew what, although Lazarus could say that he had a rather good guess as to what it was that had called her away, still he couldn't get that night out of his head. No matter how hard he tried to suffocate his memories through the near constant haze of amber liquor, she was still there in the back of his thoughts. The way she felt, the way she'd tasted... it stirred the animal within him, causing it to snarl and pace along the corroded bars with a hunger that Lazarus was determined to ignore regardless of what it took. Oh, he'd gone to bars and clubs, wasted enough money on countless bottles of whiskey to try and get himself drunk enough to forget about her as lustful eyes would rove over the women in their scandalous cocktail dresses as they danced amidst the many bodies on the dance floor or meandered over to the bar close to where Lazarus would be sitting. Before Vhalla, he would have given a wolfish grin and played his cards to win him the bedside company of an intoxicated woman looking for a one-night stand. It had been the only other thing he was good at, and now, how found himself incapable of taking another woman to bed. The animal in him did not want any of him the way that it craved Vhalla, and it was enough to drive the dark hunter into avoiding those more familiar grounds for some lonely place where he could just sit and drink until they kicked him out. He blamed her for pushing him to the lengths of trying to keep himself busy in an all too sober way just to avoid the thoughts of her.

Tonight though, both of his reasons for ever having gotten this job - thanks to his uncle who also thankfully decided to up and vanish, like he always did - had come together in a way that had him actually wanting to get away from the townhouse. Ellie had been fussing over why Vhalla wasn't returning any of her calls or texts, the worry bright in the young woman as she tried to ask the man if he had any idea where she was. He kept his mouth sealed like he'd agreed to all those months ago, though the reason why escapes him anymore, so he would shrug and say something like "why the hell would I know where that damn woman went?" or something similar. But today, she was more anxious than normal, carrying on about how it had been so long since she'd last seen the witch, even going as far as to ask Lazarus to go by her place and see if she was home. When his sister had made this request, he refused to do just that, insisting that Vitani wanted him there earlier today. Ducking out of the townhouse in an unusually hurried oace, he'd made his way into the northern district of the city towards the address of the fae woman who seemed to have a knack for hiring dark hunters to keep an eye on the perimeters of her mansion. He doesn't look at the people walking past him, in front of him, or even behind him. He just wanted to sit outside with a glass of liquor and do nothing for the next eight hours. It was a rather nice perk, working under the table for a wealthy woman who knew her expensive alcohols, especially when she would offer him a glass on occasion to compliment his pay. Perhaps if he'd been paying attention, kept his senses about him, he might have realized that someone was following him. It hardly bothered Lazarus, though. He could hold his own just fine if someone should decide to try and jump him, and he would almost welcome it to be honest. He couldn't remember the last time he had a good brawl. It wouldn't be the first time, after all.

He reaches the somewhat modern-looking residence and allows himself in through the gate, catching the scent of the last guy who'd been posted outside her front gate as he makes his way up the stairs. He knocks upon the door and much to his surprise, it wasn't the cute little brunette maid that answers the door but instead it was the platinum blonde fae woman with her kittenish smile as pale peridot eyes roam across the dark hunter in the same appraising way, though it was fleeting due to his plain black t-shirt and faded jeans, far from the men that Lazarus has seen her bring back to the mansion before being promptly dismissed on such evenings."Just clocking in. Anything in particular you need me to do?", he says boredly, Vitani nearly offering him an amused look now."Good evening to you as well, Mr. Wolfe. Still the charming gentleman, I see", she replies, her silken voice dripping in sarcasm that reminds him far too much of the one he was determined to forget."Do come inside to collect this week's pay before doing as you always do", she says then, stepping aside to allow him in. Shrugging, the dark hunter enters the impeccable foyer and closes the door behind him, making his way down the hall that moves past the perfectly polished stairwell to where a small table sits with an envelope lingers unmarked. He grabs the envelope and nods to Vitani waiting for him beside the stairs, the man not even bothering to count the cash right now. He moves past her without so much as a linger glance, the fae woman far from the type he went after. Lazarus opens the door again, closing it directly behind him when suddenly a voice calls out to him. And not just any voice... It could quite literally have been anyone else's, but it was hers."Fuck", tenor tones usher unbidden from the dark hunter to betray the fact that he can't help but startle by the sudden reappearance of the last person he wanted to see, and he turns around with eyes narrowed upon the woman dressed in black with her hood drawn and arms folded across her chest like she'd caught him doing something he shouldn't."What the hell are you even talking about?", he growls while almost begrudgingly making his way down the steps, dark forest eyes glaring from behind black aviators though the suspicion in his baritones was more than enough to make it clear he had a guess on what she was hinting at."And why were you even following me?", he demands next, feeling the figurative hackles slowly lay flat as the irritation of her surprise visit smooths over and settles into the typically annoyed expression over his features, his own strong and defined arms folding across his muscled chest that only slightly stretches the fabric of his shirt.