Lazarus knew what the smart thing to do in this position was, and that was to stay here with the last being on earth that he wanted to be within miles of. Now, thanks to whatever the hell was going on with her "customer service job", he was more or less trapped here with her. It was enough to make that beast in him pace along those weakened bars that could break at any moment. If ever there was a time where he needed to keep that temper of his under wraps, it was now. In an abandoned warehouse. With a fire-wielding witch. Surrounded by god knows how many other weapons there were that the dark hunter couldn't see. Still though, he could feel himself dangerously close to just saying "fuck it" and walking out. She was home, she would doctor herself up however she wanted, he didn't need to be here. If anything, he felt even more compelled to return home to Ellie, wanting to ensure that she was safe and that if the witch had left any loose ends out there somewhere, they wouldn't be going after his little sister. Yet even against that stubborn want to turn his back on the white-haired woman and find his own way back home without getting caught by the cops that were surely running around in their organized units to find the being or beings responsible for the bloody mess in that alleyway outside the club which didn't sound as difficult as tolerating the witch did, his better judgment knew that she was right. And he hated it that she was right. Hated it. What was it with women and almost always being right? Even Isabelle had been right... Right to leave him when she saw the darkness that overwhelmed him, when that anger that had been only a fleeting weakness threatened to swallow him altogether. She had been right to fear him when that inky black haze bled out over dark forest greens and those shadows in her world came to life with menacing snarls and glowing red eyes. She had been right to break that cold heart of his when he'd once been able to feel for others.

He pushes away the memories of those chocolate brown eyes, those ruby red lips, and that long onyx hair that had felt like silk between his fingers. Now was absolutely not the time to think of the past. Not when he was sure that he would now need to worry most about what this night would mean for Elain's future. He never worried about himself really, the world wouldn't miss someone like him if he perished. There was no one he would be leaving behind except for his little sister, and on the rare occasion where those darker thoughts would drag him down to the darkest places, he was almost able to convince himself that even she would be better off without him. He never voiced these thoughts to the young woman though, knowing entirely too well that she would just tell him he was "being silly" and that she would be lost without him. In all reality, her future would probably be much brighter without the man in it, but she was that light that kept him going, that ever constant reminder to him that there was still some good left in that jaded soul of his even if he couldn't see it, even if it was buried so far beneath all the anger that embedded itself into him. Perhaps that was why he was so fiercely protective bordering on possessive of her, why it was that he was bound and determined to rip the world apart if it meant keeping her safe and well. That want delved much, much deeper than the promise he'd made to their parents to always look out for her. And so as he watched the witch before him while she finished dressing her wound, he could only feel that monster inside him snarling as it sought to eliminate the apparent threat it saw in the wounded woman. Surely the white-haired woman could not prove to be anything good for the young honey-blonde woman that meant more to Lazarus than he would ever admit.

She responds to his remark of the skulls and he only scoffs."Who gifts people with human skulls? It doesn't even matter how old they are, they were still once attached to a body", he counters, though he would just leave that be. It was so terribly insignificant in this very moment that he wouldn't even bother prodding on who had given them to her or why, what her relation was with that being, and where the hell they'd even come from to begin with. Her wry small and false softness in her voice has his glare hardening further but his jaw muscles flex as they clench shut, refusing to give her whatever satisfaction she would get from his barking reply. He doesn't flinch as she snaps at him, his words having clearly struck a sore spot somewhere within her and he almost falters when she says that she was owned. For a moment, he almost doesn't believe her. He rolls those dark forest eyes now as he watches her rise from that chair, steam rising off her slender frame."Who the hell would own a witch that kills for a job?", he almost sneers, fully expecting her to either snap at him again or ignore him altogether, the two reactions that he seemed to get from her. They walk down the hall now as the woman reveals that she hadn't told his little sister and as he's about to interrupt her and demand that she either tell Elain or get out of her life, the woman turns to him and he stops in his tracks, his own fierce glare meeting hers. She goes on to say that they weren't friends, she and Lazarus. Well, at least we agree on that much. he says nothing in reply to those words, the beast daring to challenge her on those words and yet he is smarter than that, refraining from rising to that challenge that only just lingered on the tip of his tongue. He needed to know more about her before he would even think to try, and it definitely wouldn't be here where she was clearly in her element and he was clearly not, even if he did know more about the woman he so hated.

Standing there in the doorway, not even worried by the fact that he was shirtless despite the burn scar that was planted firmly on his sternum as a wonderful little token for him to remember her by for the rest of his stupidly long â€" or short, who knows â€" life, he is silent as those dark forest eyes bore into her. That silence lingers for a time which he is perfectly content to stand there in for the time being, watching keenly as she shifts in her seat only to find a bruise encompassing the back of her shoulder. They were fresh, and he wouldn't be an even halfway amateur dark hunter if he didn't know that those were wounds inflicted by a vampire. He stores this away for however it may be of use later and his gaze meets hers that are now glittering with a curiosity despite the exhaustion that also clouds those brilliant blues that he watches latch onto the fang that hung on that silver chain. As she gestures for him to sit on the seat across from her, he refuses to move, more than content to be stubborn and remain where he was. He didn't want to be any closer to her than he needed to be so that he could hear her. She asks about the fang and he is silent for a moment as strong hands remain rested on the opposite biceps, arms still crossed. He didn't owe her a damn thing, so he considers seriously the option not to tell her about it, but he also knew that in surrendering something, it might make extracting information from her easier."Token from my first kill", is all that he gives her. It was the truth, and it was certainly more in depth than the weak answers she'd given him. She leans into the back of the chair, long pale legs folding beneath her, those feminine tones dropping dangerously. Again, she threatens him and he feels the monster snarling back though he holds fast to those brittle bars, only hardening his glare once more at the woman's threats."There's not really a damn thing you can do to make life harder for me", he growls in reply, pausing only for a moment."Frankly, all I give a shit about is making sure that my little sister is safe. Who... owns you, and is there any reason I shouldn't tell you to stay the hell away from Elain?", tenor tones answer back, disregarding all else, even though there was more that he could dare to ask if he felt so inclined to know her â€" which, for now, he wasn't.