we built this city on broken glass

Best in show. The honey-eyed creatures words so hardly fail to settle within the depths of the towering equines mind, Frost peering toward the dog-like animal with some small measure of curiosity at the seemingly obscure phrase before following his line of sight toward that distinctly ancient medallion that hung from its chain about his neck. One of a matching set that had cost him no small amount of time, money and effort to hunt down over the years. Each medallion within that set so displaying but one of those Gods from his own homeland. Each of them in turn possessing a distinctly unique....power of sorts and yet they were so rarely known or recognised outside his own culture. That icelandic language and its nordic roots so having protected them from them knowledge of most of the world. Frost distinctly determined to keep it as such. That stallion instead attempting to force that soft sound of some vague hint of amusement from his nostrils. He had never been a particularly funny being in any sense. Frost rarely inclined to jokes of any kind even despite a rather deep sense of appreciation for the irony of the world and the occasional well-crafted pun. His nature, all the same, so hardly lending itself to good humour or jest- on most occasions. Frost, for all his emotional intelligence and decidedly strategic mind, so often failed to perceive those more delicate nuances of language and the emotions that came with them. Nadya so frequently lamenting that it would surely not kill him to display any emotion or indeed even the hint of a reaction to that which someone offered him. That singular soft, vague snort so apparently his effort tonight. Best in show?

"No."

How oblivious the stallion was to the rather abrupt nature off his own near deadpan response or that such a response might, in some sense, be mistaken for coldness rather then directness. Frost simply not inclined to humour. That assurance that followed, along with the surreptitious wink readily prompting a narrowing off his own violet gaze. What a truly odd creature this Jackal was with his honeyed words and ready smiles. Frost un-inclined to believe something more nefarious did not exist below the surface of the other man and yet for now he saw little need to query it. This fellow liked to talk it seemed. Even if the words seemed to have no purpose other than to....annoy. Still, that in itself was not a singularly disappointing trait. Indeed, those whom were good with words held a value all their own. Frost wholly willing to admit that words were not his own strength in as much as he so tended to be decidedly direct and without that near flowery arrangement of language Marcello seemed entirely capable off. How useful those clever words were however would remain to be seen.

His very query of just what skills that Jackal claimed to possess so seemed to prompt within the other man that near superfluous, flowery language once more. His words laced with those teasing tones as he so insisted those questions had become far to personal- and without even a dinner invitation. Frost so allowing his own lip to quirk in a more ready amusement. Marcello was quick, if nothing else. To remain guarded over his own skills hardly a crime in any sense and indeed it displayed some measure of sense in what Frost had come to decide was an otherwise hectic, distracted mind.

"For a man with so many words- you say very little."

One eye lifted ever so slightly, those violet depths lingering upon the other man then and yet whether or not such a thing was so designed to be complimentary or not remained to be seen. Marcello taking that moment to further consider his own words before claiming he was accomplished in thievery. Hmmm. He had the build for it, if nothing else. A sleek, streamlined animalistic form, a scavenger no less. Thief so oddly seemed to suit the man. Frosts ears pricking forward in a renewed intrigue of sorts. Marcello's admittance that stealing without a purpose had become dull so seeming, at last, to spark a genuine response from the stallion. How very much Frost understood that....irritation of a lack of purpose. It so diminished the completion of a task.

"That, I understand. I have run out of wars to fight of late. It leaves me....irritable. A war horse with no wars. I suppose I could start one...."

That thickened white tail flicked easily up agianst the side of his flanks. Frost considering that lack of battle of late and yet, he supposed, that lack of fights to be had so only further assured that Alexander and hismelf had more then succeeded in that role of bringing peace and order to the Mounted Unit and the fractions it ruled over. Peace at the price off his own....enjoyment. His words a near cool, smooth musing of sorts. The last time he had started a war another Alpha had died. Unfortunate that. Those queries of just what it took to exist within his own pack so readily prompted his thoughts away from those idle considerations. Frost offering that straightforward answer in this. Those members off his pack were required to have a use. A talent. Something that made them worth his time when so much of this world was not. Marcello, in the least, seeming to understand that very concept. Frosts own head nodded in that singular agreement. If Marcello truly did desire some place amongst his pack then he need only prove it. The other man, pleasingly, seeming to rise to the challenge. What did he need taken and from who? Hmmm, how long such a list was and yet Frost was inclined to choose that target not based upon what he desired at all but rather whom would provide the greater challenge for Marcello to steal from. A true test of the deviants skill. Someone whom held the ability to push that jackal to his very limit. Indeed, if marcello failed he would very likely find himself dead and yet, if he died, he had only served to prove how very useless he was.

"Do you know this man?"

Frosts own affinity for illusion so readily seemed to flare into life then to craft that image of one particular golden-eyed blonde Hunter that Alexander and himself had dealt with on far more than one occasion. Azrael well known throughout the city not only as its Council representative but also for his near notorious bad temper and rather high kill quota. Let alone those rather.....significant abilities that so made the man near painful to deal with. How Alexander had the patience he never knew.

"He is the local Hunter Council representative. He works in the Council headquarters building in the heart of the city when he's not out hunting. He has a book in his office Id like back. You can't miss it. It's a white book. Is this to much of a task for you?"

How very....simple he had made that task seem and yet how much it was not. Azrael.....better seen to be believed. Then again, perhaps such a task would be beyond the jackal and he would required something easier.

FrosT