they argued my right to ascension

With the haste in which the young raven-haired witch moved to open the door the Hunter is half given to believe the girl may have almost been waiting for him with an eagerness that betrayed even his own earlier attempts to find a suitable shirt. Any inclination Azrael may have had to dwell on the matter however is decidedly short lived, the eternally youthful blonde allowing the gold of his gaze to drift smoothly along her form in a manner perhaps not entirely appropriate for 'friends' and yet one he makes no true effort to hide all the same. She was dressed far more....casually then she normally was and yet her clothing still maintained a decidedly clean look to it that saw the Hunter frown lightly. He had warned her readily enough, if any of her clothing got ruined it would be her fault entirely and yet the man is still inclined to believe he may be blamed for it regardless, Azrael voicing his thoughts on the matter a moment later. For her part, Serafina seemed decidedly distracted, Azrael scowling slightly, what was she staring at? Had he cut himself shaving? Her sudden step forward sees him readily freeze, each muscle held taut and yet, for the perhaps the first time he makes no actual effort to step away, allowing her hand to brush almost feather light against the side of his neck. He'd almost forgotten about the vampire entirely, his own hand reaching up, if only to make sure the puncture wounds hadn't decided to bleed again.

"I'm fine, I've been bitten before and I'll be bitten again I'm sure, the venom doesn't have any effect on me- aside from the fact it itches. It takes longer to heal though."

His shoulders moved to lift in a loose shrug, his words true enough, dismissive, attempting to steer the conversation away from his work- the one facet of his life that dominated his near every move and yet the one he was most unwilling to discuss all the same. Especially with one of the very creatures he was supposed to be hunting, the man perhaps holding some.....unwillingness to talk so casually of the murder of her own species at his hands each day. Her offer to assist him is met, as always, with an almost stern look- his stance on her magic having been made clear multiple times- a retort already on his lips before he finds himself halting. Why he can hardly say, her gaze against his own seeing him shift slightly beneath the weight of it. He understood, now, that her intentions were, for the most part, entirely good and yet that instinctive wariness is a decidedly difficult notion to shift. Rejecting her efforts however, would surely lead to an irritability in her attitude for the rest of the night.
"Fine."

He relents at last, the word muttered more to himself then the woman truly and yet he allows himself to step within her home all the same, eyeing the coat rack with no small measure of disdain, her threat from several months ago to spring it upon him clearly unforgotten as he places himself within the hallway, one eye lifted in mild expectation.

"Should I sit...somewhere?"

It would be decidedly improper to simply march himself into either the kitchen or the living room after only having been within her home once before, the man waiting for some measure of directive before moving to follow her, the deep baritone of his voice holding the vaguest touch of wariness.

"What are going to do, exactly?"

Truly he hopes desperately the woman is not about to chant any sort of incantation at him much less use any sort of bizarre ingredient. Despite having spent the better part of eighty years chasing after witches, among others, the Hunter knew decidedly little about them- much of his wariness born of ignorance perhaps and yet he has seen the harsher side of witches all the same. It is simply his...trust for Serafina alone that sees him willing to at least allow the woman to attempt to help him.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread