Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

He had, in some fashion, put rather a bit of thought into this evening. At least as far as 'thought' by Azrael's standards could be deemed, the man rarely allowing himself to ponder how to please people when so much of his existence was given towards attempting to annihilate them, their personal opinions of him rarely regarded in any sense of the word and yet when it came to the raven-haired witch before him he had long since given up attempting to pretend as if her opinion did not matter to him. For all the consideration he had at least put into attempting to preserve her outfit he had, perhaps, given no thought to her footwear. After all, shoes, he is sure, were for walking in. What did it matter if they got matter? They were supposed to get muddy. That the woman beside him might have disagreed remained to be seen, Azrael seeing no true need to answer her question in regards to exactly how muddy the trail actually was. Muddy was....muddy and he is sure it is sufficiently muddy. One hand simply gestures forward, moving to lead the young woman all the same, pausing every now and then to allow her a chance to catch up, oblivious to the manner in which he leapt from several boulders in something almost akin to delight behind him.

It is, perhaps, the slowest ascent of the trail he had ever made and yet for once, the Hunter finds himself abnormally befit of patience. The further and further the man moved from the city and its overwhelming supernatural presence the calmer he became. In fact, Azrael found himself very near enjoying the evening. He pauses within his stride to take the woman's hand, guiding her down a rather large boulder before assuring her they were hardly far, hardly protesting the manner, for once, in which her fingers knotted with his own. That she had made it even this fair without falling over was admirable- he supposed, those few final strides seeing he man crest the ridge at last to pause upon the outskirts of the rather vast lake. Affording Serafina several moments to at least take in the sight with which he had presented her, the blonde man nodding easily to her question.

"Yes. There are very few who actually know it is here. Alexander does, I think, but he and his horse are currently in Siberia."

With one tent between them. The vaguest of simpers momentarily seems to linger upon the man's lips, assured Alexander would have something to say about it when he returned and yet work- for once, was of little actual concern to the man. His gaze draws smoothly away from the building and back to the witch beside him, a frown momentarily seeming to crease his features at her words. Had he held any actual ability to see the thoughts that danced about within her mind he might well have taken genuine amusement in how entirely correct they were. Much of their relationship was...off, or at least appeared to be on some level. Azrael entirely assured much of it is his doing alone, his utter inability to relax enough in her presence to actually enjoy it so often resulting in the man's rather....abrasive nature being pressed to the surface and yet he was trying. At least- he had decided to try- with far more determination then he had previously allowed himself. The hunter finally seeming to have come to the realisation that this was something he...wanted. Simply denying it did little good. Perhaps it was doomed to fail and yet still the man found himself inclined to try all the same.

"This-"

He says at last, features smoothing now, allowing the girl a small, almost rueful smile.

"-is me trying to be at least a little romantic and a little more, well, fun then I usually am."

Even Azrael is not oblivious to his often disagreeable nature, the man having become so entirely good at pushing others away from himself that attempting to do the reverse was a decidedly difficult and yet the man is assured it is not entirely outside of his capabilities. At least not yet. He never had been good at this, any of it, the only two women whom had ever held any importance to him both having assured him on numerous occasion that romance was....distinctly outside his talents. His hand remains easily within her own though, drawing the woman softly forward now and towards the very edge of the lake. The water's surface was almost glassy beneath the moonlight, any lack of breeze assuring the night was rather warm.

"I thought you might like to join me for a swim and then afterwards you might like to see the house. I cannot make dinner in my own kitchen, to be honest I hate my apartment, but I do know how to cook over a fire. I have given up trying to find reasons not to spend time with you. I-"

It is perhaps the most the man has ever said in regards to anything even remotely resembling an emotion, golden gaze lowering to the woman's own once more, one hand reaching up to run through his own tousled looks in perhaps the vaguest touch of....nervousness. A sigh parting his lips. The modern way of doing all these things was decidedly unusual and yet he was at least attempting not to show his age in everything he did. His words, when they come are gentle, if not slightly flustered.

"- I like you. Far more then I should- but I do."