kissing death and loosing my breath

The discontent that Serafina managed to invoke within the Dark Hunter had become enough of a norm that the young witch was hardly perturbed by the presence of the scowl that marred his features. The frown tugged at the bottom of his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and yet, in perhaps a peculiar fashion, Serafina found the entire gesture almost endearing. She knew she shouldn't, naturally but it never failed to amuse her, bringing the smallest twitch to the corner of her own mouth even though she knew such gaiety would only be met with any further agitation on his part. She chose not to press him further, letting the man speak instead of the past that led to such a judgmental fashion he regarded not only her kind but the others that he so rigorously hunted. She worked in silence as she waited, listening to the story he wove of his life both before and during his transformation. It was curious to her, the sheer difference between the worlds they had been brought up within and for a moment she paused - her eyebrows furrowed as she considered the answer she had been given.

A soft sigh left her lips, as the girl shook her head ever so slightly, her ebony locks swaying in the gentle motion. "I suppose that's where you and I differ." She stated simply, "I never got that black or white. We didn't get the luxury of morality - we did what we had to in order to live and because of that I suppose we freely questioned everything." There was a small shrug on her shoulders, her attention shifting towards the dinner that she was making ever effort to prepare. Serafina was content to leave the man to the task in front of him, instead shifting to find a pot and fill it with water. His confusion on the piece of meat brought a giggle to her lips as she shook her head, "No, no Azrael. It's called tenderizing. You beat it in order to tenderize it. It makes it softer. Usually you do it with salt - I think they used to do it to preserve meat before there were refrigerators. You're old, you should remember this." She teased him, quite willing to jest over the age gap that surely existed between them, even if she hadn't felt it fit to inquire about it directly.

Instead, Serafina listened to the sound of the knife moving across the cutting board and the rather obscured compliment he offered her. She was fairly sure that she could at least manage to craft something better then two minute noodles - a notion that made her stomach flip as it was by just the thought of it. Gingerly, Serafina touched the water within her pot, her lips pressing together to feel the temperature. Patience had never been her virtue when it came to coaxing water to boil. Her attention turned from the stove at the sound of the man's voice, choosing to lean against the appliance as she shook her head. "I had one...once." She paused, entirely unsure of how to continue if not for the very man's presence. "He died recently....tragically." Serafina stated, her stormy gaze shifting to the far corner of the room as if to judge the ghastly man's response. The young witch was perhaps enjoying herself enough that she hardly wished to invoke the ghost's anger, the situation was delicate enough as it was. "Anyways, so now it's just me." Serafina shrugged, turning his attention back towards the stove and the pot of water she was attempting to boil. The surface, instead of bubbly and warm was cold, nearly frigid to the touch. "Are you sure your stove is working?" She inquired, her gaze shifting towards the hunter at her side.