Azrael

Only Fools Walk Where Angels Fear To Tread

This was probably the first and only time in all the damn years he'd been alive that he'd seen someone look almost pleased about being slapped. At least, from the expression on his face he looked pleased-ish. Azrael failing on some level to identify exactly what emotion he was being presented with. The Hunter largely oblivious in that moment to just how much pleasure his companion had taken from that forceful encounter or the satisfaction the other man took from his own toned physique and fine features. Azrael, after all, was the very sort of boy prone to be oblivious even to the women who appreciated eyeing him- at least until they made those affections blatantly clear to him. The Hunter hardly considering for a moment he might appeal to a man in any sense, his thoughts far to fixated on attempting to move on the unholy creature before him. Perhaps it was fortunate he hardly knew just how unholy that other man's thoughts were capable of being. His golden gaze merely watching as the Fae stood up to pluck another cigarette from his pocket to replace its fallen comrade before inhaling. The other man looking thoroughly pleased with himself, as if standing somehow required some great skill. What was it with Fae and their fucking ego? For a species on the brink of extinction you'd think they'd be less inclined to try and irritate him.

Whatever words had been about to leave his were abruptly cut short by the single use of that near pet name that rolled almost lazily from the other man's lips. Sweetness? What the hell was that supposed to mean? No man had ever called him that before. What a bloody weird thing to say. That momentary surprise flickered blatantly across his own features and yet that ever present scowl quickly replaced it. Azrael simply choosing to dismiss that unusual word for now, after all, who new what went on in the minds of Fae? Foul race that they were. Azrael content to watch the man all the same. Fae hardly had the physical speed or strength of a vampire, they lacked the wildness of a Were and even the power of a Witch or Warlock and yet he knew enough of their race to know of their cunning. How fortunate though that they lacked supernatural healing or really any comparable strength to a Hunter at all. In the least the man should be easy enough to kill f he kept pushing his luck. Fae usually were. Skinny, pointy-eared bastards. Azrael forcing himself to suppress that internal groan at the mans words. Great. An ass. Truly he supposed he was hardly surprised.

"Then it's a fucking good thing I didn't ask nicely isn't it?"

The Fae's accent was unusual and yet it told him enough to know there would hardly be repercussions for killing this one. He wasn't Italian. That meant he was likely not part of the Aragona Fae Crown and not under any sort of diplomatic immunity. Less paperwork. Good. His arms folded easily across his own chest then, the leather-jacket wearing Fae content to keep smoking his cigarette and acting for all the world as if nothing in life had ever bothered him. Either it was a damn good act or the Fae really didn't care. Maybe it didn't matter. The other man content to prattle off about the law then regarding his freedom of speech. As if he'd never considered verbal abuse might be a crime. Not that he truly knew what the man had said outside of the womans apparent histeria. Honestly he hardly cared about either of them. Why did these things always happen at the end of shifts? It was like God didn't want him to go home. Azrael arching one eyebrow upward into those golden locks of hair.

"Oh, you can say what you damn well like, until it pisses someone else off enough that they come and piss me off with their bitching. I don't care what age in history you stepped out off Romeo, keep your shit to yourself. This is your only warning."

He was damn well lucky the woman had found him and not Kat or Gia or one of the female council members likely to have taken him out with a sniper before he'd even know what hit him. Azrael's eyes narrowing again at that cloud of smoke the man exhaled. A voice that sounded surprisingly like his own suddenly erupting from the Fae, that surprise finding his features again. Well that was bloody new. He hadn't seen that one before and yet either this guy had some great hidden trump card he was waiting to play or he was aiming for the gold medal in irritating the often already irritable Azrael. That mention of someone waiting at home seeing his gaze narrow all the more.

"I don't have anyone waiting at home, fairy-boy, and you better damn well hope that copy-catting is not the only thing that power does because that ain't going to save you now."

It was hardly uncommon for any Hunter to lie about their relationships, after all, he encouraged all those that worked under him to remain single or in the least keep those relationships private. Significant others were a weakness others exploited, the very sort of weakness vengeful supernaturals liked employing. Still, his words were hardly a lie. He didn't have anyone waiting at his home. Sera was at her place. Azrael near excelling in those half truths when he chose to employ them. Which was strikingly often. The Hunter having hidden his relationship with from the rest of the council for over a year now. What they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. The Fae's desire to have him 'stay and play' prompting an irritable sigh from him once more. Azrael struggling to reign in his temper as one hand brushed along his chin in an absent minded gesture. Hmmm, he needed shave soon.

"I have a better idea. You've got one minute to start heading for those park gates, alright? This is the only chance im giving you, either start walking or I'll slap you so bloody hard your ancestors will feel it, put you in a headlock and drag you kicking and screaming like a little boy out of here. If your really lucky you can even keep your head- but that depends on how much more you annoy me. So. Move. Your. Ass."

Each of those final words was punctuated by one step closer to the Fae each time. That final word saw one hand lift suddenly and- so aided by that affinity for blistering, unmatchable speed- aim to press to the Fae's chest and shove him back just a single step. Several passersby having paused now in some clear anticipation of a fight. Damn fools. He was going to have to protect them too if they didn't move. Why were humans so stupid? Still, his golden eyes remained firmly on the other man once more, one eyebrow raising distinctly upward in a rather clear 'well?' gesture. Was it to much to hope the guy might turn around and leave? Why were Fae never easy? Why the hell had this one called him sweetness? Azrael still bothered by that unusual name.