Narrowed eyes are hardly able to ignore that glimmer of wicked amusement the white-haired woman seemed to get from harassing the man as he did he best to look as though he were nowhere near ready to move from that bottom step as he slung those arms over each side of the step behind him. More out of reflex and the need to look like he could care less about that look she tossed him with that hand on her curvy hips any man would surely die to have grinding against their own back in that dark room booming with bass as club music shook the foundation of that old building they'd quickly departed from, he takes his left hand and scratches at the stubble of under his chiseled chin before returning it to its original place on that step. He didn't care that she could see past that attempt to look like she wasn't getting under his skin, hoping to rob her of that wry grin that danced across those plush lips, though when she decides to coo at him about how he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed he can feel his hands clenching as he begins to pop those knuckles. He refused to give her the complete satisfaction of his displeasure and only scoffs at her remark, though when she continues on, implying that he would have slept better in the bed his gaze hardens on those brilliant blues."Oh yeah, that would have been so much better", he agreed with all the sarcasm any one being should be capable of having. He only sneers as she carries on, giving a nonchalant shrug as she dares to say it's just who he was."Can't let you think anything else of me now, can I?", he shoots back, this time offering her that wolfish grin though it is quick to vanish. She certainly wasn't wrong about him, but she also didn't need to know that a small part of himself hoped that Elain was right when she had once said there was still something good in his heart... At least he knew that the rest of the world couldn't see in him what the honey-blonde woman did.

He hated that amusement that only seemed to grow more prominent in those goddamn beautiful features of the witch as she walks away from him. She is quick to give a shrug of her own as she dares to call him "pumpkin" and at this point he'd already withheld that fierce, burning anger that boiled in his veins. What does a man have to do to be called by his own fucking name around here? His stubborn refusal to deprive her of that stupid entertainment his agitation seemed to offer her is quickly breaking beneath the way that she tells him that it should teach him to go picking a fight and he could win. He feels his jaw beginning to clench as his dark forest eyes glitter dangerously towards the witch."I wasn't trying to pick a fight. All I wanted that night was some alcohol and cheap entertainment. You were the one who seemed to have something to prove that night", he snaps back fiercely as he feels the beast pacing anxiously against those brittle bars that restrained it. He wasn't about to accept full responsibility for what happened that night, for what had resulted in that scar that marked his toned chest. Even if he certainly wasn't anywhere near innocent, it had been her that threw the cheap punch that had landed squarely on his cheek and given him with black eye that had taken days to fully vanish from his handsome features. She'd been just as capable of walking away that night as he had been about to until she decided to open that pretty little mouth and continued to try and make whatever point she'd been looking to make then. Sure, maybe he'd crossed that invisible line when he'd made that comment about tipping her if she danced good for him, but he'd sooner die that dare to ever apologize for the things he'd said to her at the burlesque. The way he saw it, while she believed him to be the one who couldn't take a joke - which was an entirely true point he'd neither deny or admit to - it had been the white-haired woman who was just as guilty as Lazarus was."Nice try on placing the blame on me though, huney", he sneers after her just before she turns on her heels to face him.

Still, she continues to prod at that weakening cage and finally he isn't able to keep the monster from breaking those bars as she summons him with a gesture of that finger, implying that she was far from convinced he wasn't afraid of her and a low growl rumbles from the man as he grudgingly rises to his feet and removes that jacket to reveal toned skin beneath it. He had been so determined not to give her the satisfaction of another fight, and yet here she was continuously taunting and sneering until he just couldn't handle it anymore, that fire burning fiercely in those dark forest eyes as the anger searing his blood like liquid flame. He is able to notice that those baby blues dance across his toned torso and any other time he might have taken a moment to feel that male satisfaction roaring to life, but there was no such pleasure to be found as he saw her own twisted sense of delight that she'd been able to get him to do as she wanted. There were no words to describe exactly how much he hated that she could seem to get a rise out of him so fucking easily. He stifles a groan as he seems to take his time reaching the center of the training ring and when she again assures him she wouldn't use her magic, he simply scoffs. He got that the first time. That delight in those brilliant blue eyes lingers when she speaks yet again, this time offering him an almost suggestive wink that has those figurative email hackles lifting again, the beast baring its teeth behind those dark depths that pierced her. What it was that his little sister saw in this woman he hadn't the faintest or slightest idea, but he wished almost desperately that she couldn't see the good in just about every being. If not for that light she always seemed so certain resided in even the coldest of hearts, he wouldn't be here right now, he knew that for damn sure.

Her gaze seems to sharpen as he shifts himself and the first mistake he made was allowing for his gaze to flicker to that place his first strike would aim for. Had she been his father instead of the witch that he so hated, the older hunter wouldn't have even given Lazarus a chance to execute it, lunging quickly at the younger hunter the make him regret screwing up at the very beginning of a training session. What she does next though was almost as bad, bitterly reminding him of those long days and nights. She practically dances away from him, her voice like nails against a chalkboard in his kind as that frustration only grows that anger that at this point was quickly beginning to turn on himself. He goes to swing at her and she ducks skillfully beneath it, barking another correction only seconds before he feels that fist collide with his ribs and an involuntary grunt is forced from him with the blow and he feels himself stumble yet again as he seeks to find his center and recover once more. Shit. As they both come to a fleeting standstill, she fixes him with an intense look that hardly phased him and if anything he returned it with a glare of his own as she stated a clear fact and the same advice he'd not heard a thousand times by his father and always seemed to ignore."I know that!", he snarls before he lunges at her again, this time lifting one arm to serve as a shield to his side as he throws another powerful swing at the witch, misjudging the distance between them and inwardly cursing at himself though that train of thought is quickly cut off as she throws another jab into his exposed side as he's withdrawing his striking arm but this time he is able to bite back the grunt that nearly escapes him, that red mist threatening his vision once more like it did in the past.

Get your shit together, Lazarus! Why the fuck are you holding back!? He moves to throw a series of combination jabs and hooks, and she manages to dodge every damn one of them, those failed blows costing him more than he knew he should be expending and he can feel himself slipping in focus though as he fights to force himself through that rage, past the flashing memories of all those hard days of training that had resulted in cuts and bruises followed by that stern and disapproving scowl on his father's unscathed face. He can hear the witch shout out at him as she danced gracefully away from every attack and he hardly takes a moment to register this new nickname though perhaps it had contributed to that hesitancy that, while it had only lasted for the briefest of second, it had been enough for her to come behind him and push against his back, making him stumble for a third time. That voice of hers reaches out to the hunter again as she lectures him in a fashion more familiar than he cared for and as he's collecting himself with his own arms up now, her next string of words hit him like a ton of rocks and he can almost hear Tal's voice ringing in his ears in place of hers. It triggers something in the man and when she suddenly seems to wince ever so slightly, he is quick to seize that moment, that break in her readiness as he lunges forward and nearly into her, feigning a quick strike to the left side of her head with the intention to draw her defence there, only to lash out fiercely with his other fist in a fast yet purposeful jab that manages to land on her wounded side though he would never admit that he does not aim for the wound itself out of that inkling of concern he was determined to suffocate entirely but instead for her ninth and tenth rib that would surely be more than enough to jar that tender flesh working to bind itself together. He wastes no time in trying to steal temporary pride as that jab hits its mark and he throws another quick jab to her opposite side while continuing to try and force her to step backwards away from him, advancing and acting quickly to bring those muscled arms up to guard his own face as he twists his toned frame and snaps a leg out in a fast sweeping motion towards her calf, determined that this time he'd be the one that made her lose that balance and send her tumbling onto the padded floor beneath them. Sure, it could likely backfire on him again and he'd be the one on his back, but it was a chance he was willing to take as he forced through all those bitter memories in an attempt to grasp those techniques his father had tried to enstill in him.