they argued my right to ascension

For several moments within the warm embrace of the woman's kitchen the blonde had been left to wonder if the young witch had taken it upon herself to act almost brazen in the manner in which she conducted herself, both reaching and bending within the space of barely a few moments in an effort to supply him with the snack he was more grateful for then he truly cared to show, her outfit offering little to the imagination with such movements- so much so that the Hunter is given cause to attempt to at least avert his gaze in some effort at modesty despite his desire to do no such thing. Her innocence as a whole however is almost...palpable, the barest inclination of a simper appearing upon his lips at the mere thought of the girl ever truly holding any real idea of the appeal such a thing offered. How long did it last, truly? That sort of innocence? Longer now perhaps then it had within his youngers years, the slender female before him sure to have been married and with a child at such an age within his time and yet by that same notion it seemed much younger women, girls truly, seemed to know far more about the world then they had within his time- this question of innocence in all it's facets seeming to intrigue him for several moments, the thoughts turned about within his mind before he moved to dismiss them. Nostalgia was a dangerous thing- one that only ever led to things he hardly held any desire to remember any longer.

It is his name upon his lips that seems to find his attention returned to the stormy grey tinge of her gaze, the almost affectionate moniker she had seen fit to bestow upon him a token he both enjoyed and yet found agitating all at once. So few had ever used that name, fewer still with any manner of affection and yet it is not her use of 'Azzy' that brings a scowl to his features- this mention of talking cats and royal frogs seeming to earn his disapproval all over again. Humour- never was his strongest quality, at least, not within the last few years.

"Do you truly desire another talking animal?"

One golden eye merely lifted, the vaguest hint of amusement seeming to linger somewhere behind that amber golden gaze as she lent atop the chair before her, assured one Were creature in her life was surely enough. The empty milk glass is returned to the table before him as his momentary praise seemed to deliver a simper to her own lips and the man is left once more to wonder at the girl whom finds pleasure in something as simple as his approval of her baking skills. This single, simple moment of praise and acceptance however last no longer then the time it takes for the man to draw his next breath and end whatever fanciful hopes the girl (and perhaps even himself) had momentarily been allowed to dwindle upon in the few moments he had stolen from her upon her front step. He should never have allowed it, he should never have been as very weak as that and yet he still cannot bring himself to regret it entirely, no matter the discord that turned readily within him now. Was it truly so bad to have offered her just that single token of his...fondness? He has already broken his own rules, if only for one night, it is better perhaps- to simply cast the night aside and allow himself merely one other indulgence before fully allowing his mind to consider the implications of such a thing. All these years.....and he still found himself enamoured with the wrong woman. The almost breathless whisper that passes the witches lips sees the gold of his gaze find her own once more, the Hunter wishing entirely, that for even just a moment he could detect some ounce of hate within her gaze, some form of loathing or fear- if only to make his own indecision all the easier and yet, her gaze very near holds anything but, his own forced away- as if the wall of her kitchen requires his sudden attention. Didn't want him to leave?

"Just.....don't."

He offers nothing more than that single muttered phrase, the most softly spoke on any he has surely ever uttered towards her, believing there truly is nothing more to be said upon it- hardly trusting his own resolve not to crumble once more beneath her evident desire to have him stay as he stood abruptly in her wake. The living room she moved to direct him too would be...suitable enough, he supposed, her mention of the coat rack and the humour within her words seemingly lost upon him, the tall young man halted suddenly within the hall, eyes flickering towards the offending furniture as if he hardly dares to pass it for fear it may attempt to grasp him in an affectionate manner- eyeing the carved wooden piece for several moments before attempting to very near sidle past it- content only when it fails to move. It is the warmth perhaps that first seems to make the man aware of the fireplace, golden eyes peering beneath lashings of equally golden hair to observe the living room- if only to assure himself nothing supernatural has attempted to sabotage him, a single nod of approval given.

One hand reaches down to grasp the hem of his hooded jacket, suddenly and effortlessly pulling it up and over his head, the fitness of his physique entirely clear in the moment it takes to straighten the plain black t-shirt that rests beneath, thick, blond locks tousled in all directions from being ruffled in such a manner before he moves to place his jacket upon the couch (for fear of the coat rack). It is with almost a sigh of relief to be free of the heat of the jacket that he reaches into the pocket of his jeans to produce his phone, fingers brushing softly against it a moment before placing it upon the coffee table and turning at last towards Serafina.

"I have already apologized for the lateness of the hour, my attire is also inappropriate, as is my being within your home unaccompanied- or at least, such things would have been inappropriate once. I am not assured of the rules of this decade."

Certain themes, certain traits, it would seem, are simply not forgotten over the years, his old-fashioned manner entirely upon display now- though he hardly knows any other way when it comes to courting, save those he was taught in his younger years.

"There is much it would seem I have to apologize for, though I am doubtful of my ability to change my charming personality, but it would be...remiss of me not to fix the one thing I am capable of restoring."

He simply moved to sweep one finger back across his phone, allowing the smooth, melodic and yet undeniably old tones of the music to play, a musical piece, an instrumental, as entirely as old as himself- one hand offered towards her now.

"Would you like to dance? Properly, this time, and sans the crossbow as you requested."

His dance abilities, after all, were not something he ever intended to apologise for, the man determined to correct his earlier performance from that ridiculously idiotic party, presuming the girl would be willing enough to indulge him in this.

"I have already broken the rules, I might as well continue to break them- if only for just one night."

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread