One would think that even under the influence of the whiskey that they'd drank like parched people did water after days of wandering in a seemingly endless desert, Lazarus might have been able to remember that he couldn't stand her. Ever since that first punch and the scar left behind by the heat of her touch that in reality he was somewhat surprised wasn't any worse than it had been, the man knew that he would be able to live the rest of his cursed life in his in typical, miserable contentment if he'd never seen her again. She could have fallen off the face of the earth after than less than pleasant first-time meeting, any night before that one night which he blames completely for the way things were now, having driven him all but mad or out of his mind, and he wouldn't have given a single fuck that she was gone. He wouldn't have found himself wondering where she was, why the witch had just up and vanished as though everything really had been just one terribly, painfully long nightmare he'd had the hardest time waking up from. If it wasn't for her, everything would have stayed the same for the dark hunter as he'd come to accept them. He would be able to go out to the clubs and the bars, find a few pretty faces that were either a little too comfortable in the moment to judge the man clearly and see that he was probably one of the last ones they should have even considered taking home or simply looking for the same exact thing that he was. All the reckless sex, the partying and doing as he pleased without ruby red lips and glacier blue eyes lingering in the back of his mind as Isabelle once did, it was almost entirely stolen from him - and he hated it. Oh, how very much he hated it. Every time he might dare to think that he might be able to find a good lay to try and get his mind as far from Vhalla as he could, he would only ever go out and drink, returning to his own townhouse which was shared with his little sister. There had been many, many times where he could have taken a woman to bed and exhausted all of his hunger and anger which burned for Vhalla just to leave her sleeping as he slipped away before sunrise. There had been countless opportunities where things could have been like that there before she crashed into his world and set it on fire - almost literally but definitely in the figurative sense.

And yet, despite those fierce if not stubborn efforts - and he most certainly did put his best efforts forward for once - to push her out of his life when she just up and disappeared doing gods knew what, the man would fail. Every. Damn. Time. It was bad enough that he would walk away begrudgingly from the perfect quarry the beast pacing the bars within him him could see in a slutty-looking blonde or brunette, but for him to only end up lying there in his unkempt bedsheets or slumped in the armchair with the television on and dark forest eyes staring blankly at whatever was flickering across the pixelated surface... it was infuriating. It was when Donovan had made the suggestion that he take it a gym membership and do something that might be more helpful other than just waiting for Vitani to call and give him the time for his next shift or drinking alone while Ellie was attending her college classes that Lazarus began working out. For a little while, it did the trick. Whenever he felt those damned thoughts beginning to try and take over his bored or hazed mind, he would throw on some sweat pants, black tank top, and head over to the twenty-four hour fitness center. Sometimes he would even find himself within those public doors at three o'clock in the morning when he couldn't sleep or even induce sleep through the bottles of whiskey or rum that just weren't lasting very long at all and they were doing absolutely nothing to help him forget about her. And, in typical Lazarus fashion, when going there for one hour started to lose its effectiveness, he would be there for two... then three... He would take the longest ways back to the townhouse, wandering the much quieter streets in the earliest hours of the morning. He would do everything he could think of to keep her out of his mind. Sometimes he would only just be walking into the house at five in the morning when Ellie was leaving for school, and of course she would give the man that look of worry which he would dismiss, telling her she worried to much and that he simply hadn't been tired last night, only for him to eventually make his way up the stairs and collapse into his bed, his physical self wildly exhausted and finally convincing his mind of the same thing. He would slip into a heavy sleep then, and that seemed to be the only way he could be rid of her for at least a few hours. And even this was beginning to lose its edge on the man, and it annoyed him beyond any words he could find, refusing defiantly to allow for himself to admit that the harder he tried to forget her, the harder it became.

It wasn't evident in the way that he stood there now, though. She didn't need to know that her face was the one that haunted him more than he would ever care to admit to even himself. He sees that sneer on her face, the wicked satisfaction that dances across those damned icy blue eyes, and he feels the fury burning in his own blood as she gave him such a look. It wasn't like he was cheating on her. How could he, when they weren't even together? The two times that they dared to indulge the wild lust that had the beast snarling and rattling at the meager bars containing it, they only had the dark hunter writhing against the hunger she so ignites within him so indescribably, and yet he shoved it almost viciously beneath the annoyance that is the only thing finding his chiseled features, defined arms crossed over his chest. She waves her hand as if this was just another moment that truthfully seems to be the only type of moment they can ever have sober together. Her words have his eyes narrowing harder through his aviators, brows knitting together in that clearly rising frustration, a scowl answering her wicked grin."Wait for what? For you?", he nearly growls in reply. What the hell was going through her mind? He doesn't have to wait long though as she carries on, confirming that she had in fact been away on whatever business she was called to. And, when her last words fall easily from plush lips, that's when it all clicks into place and has his own expression changing to show his signature wolfish grin. Lifting his fingers to the rims of his sunglasses, he pulls them down the bridge of his nose slightly as dark emerald hues pierce cold winter blue, as if to add emphasis one what he hears and only just begins to see."Oh? It sounds like someone is jealous", he queries in deep tenor tones, taunting and yet the emphasis he adds on that last word makes it terribly clear that she was doing a shitty job hiding behind the mask she always wore. It is then that he allows for his predatory gaze to rove over those familiar curves that he had tried in vain to forget. He feels the animal stirring ever more as he looks over her, the way stark white hair expertly braided falls over her shoulder and down her breast. His wolfish gein becomes wicked, crooked in amusement and some sort of truly male satisfaction before he returns his glasses to the place they'd originally been resting."If it makes you feel better, you have nothing to be jealous about", he says then to the white-haired witch. That was the closest she would ever get to him openly admitting even just a fragrant of how much he wanted her.

Lazarus hardly misses the way that her own eyes begin to wander, lingering in the muscle of his arms and he takes wicked pleasure in knowing that she was just a tortured as he was. Good. If I have to suffer, she should as well. And yet, he wants to kick himself for the pleasure that he takes in how she looks at him. He shouldn't enjoy how brilliant blue eyes trace along the lining of defined biceps and shoulders. Why would he? She gives him a coy grin and his eyes narrow once more, almost coming to expect some sort of taunt anymore with that change of expression and yet he hardly expects for her to take the verbal route that she does. He can feel the muscles in his jaw clench as the heat in his blood rises as he scowls yet again. So she really did think he was in there getting his rocks off!? Her every syllable succeeds in magnifying his agitation, but he is determined - almost viciously so - not do to give her more pleasure in his annoyance than she already seemed to gave gotten. He scoffs as she makes an ever familiar remark that had been the one to earn him a fist to the right side of his face."Of all people, you should certainly know better than to try and make such assumptions and accusations, Vhal. And don't act like you believe a damn word you're saying, because we both know differently", he snarls as he suddenly finds himself stalking almost purposefully towards her, fists clenched as he lifts the envelope."The only 'services' I get paid for are to stand here at this stupid gate and keep people out. Period", he says lowly to the witch before lowering his hand and putting the envelop with cash into his pocket. Perhaps if he was a halfway decent guy, he would have asked her if she wanted to help him blow it all on liquid and food, but if she was going to act like this, then he wasn't about to be so... uncharacteristically generous. Why should I even feel like I need to justify what I'm doing here? It's none of her business. He watches a she lifts her hands up to pull he blackened hood bad, only for a bruise to be revealed. He feels the fire in his gut burn even hotter then as his dark gaze glances at it from behind those black aviators. He snaps them back to her brilliant blue gaze, determined to shove that sudden surge of protective fury he still remembers hating with every part of himself back down to where it had laid dormant all this time.

He almost reaches for her face then, but why the fuck for?! He didn't even need to ask who gave it to her, still remembering well the vampire that she works for. He feels his fists loosen and yet those fingers remain curled."So is that all you came here for? To try and convince yourself you didn't want another taste? How disappointing", sneers then, that wolfish smirk returning as he returns her words in the same fashion."Tell me... how's that working out for you?", he taunts further. He is almost hoping she tries to punch him this time, like when they'd first met. Maybe she would just turn and storm off and he could forget she ever even showed up here... and yet he is inwardly pissed with himself for hoping she doesn't. Had the animal in him really come to enjoy the constant strife? Because he sure as hell didn't.