Normally, the man might not have had any qualms about making some sort of scene. It usually happened on endeavors such as these, when he was looking to try and forget about all things except for the here and now. There was no headline in the Elkgrove Review flashing sporadically across his mind about the murder of his parents that he could never accept as a simple robbery gone bad as was portrayed in the article. Naturally, as the dark hunter had expected, the case went cold and there was never an arrest made â€" not even a lead was brought forth to law enforcement. In his mind, that could only mean that there was something deeper at work, a reason which far outweighed any amount of money or priceless possessions that had been taken from the manor Lazarus and Elain had called their home for their entire childhoods. In these moments where he could lose himself, there wasn't the memory of the less-than-mutual and clean breakup between him and Isabelle. There wasn't a pair of brilliant blue eyes following the man everywhere he went, regardless of if it was a bar or a twenty-four-hour fitness center, or even just the sleepless city streets at the heart of Sacrosanct. This was the place that Lazarus almost desperately sought, a place away from his thoughts and his life both past and present. And how frustratingly impossible it seemed, trying to reach the one place where everything was quiet, and the animal did not pace restlessly along the corroded bars to the cage that held it from showing through dark forest eyes staring broodingly at the various bottles of liquor lining the back wall. Some might expect for the man to seek solace in doing what his kind was intended for, hunting the supernatural beings and maintaining the delicate balance between humans and the world many of them chose not to acknowledge. But, that was not Lazarus.

Hell, he never even wanted this life to begin with. Immortality â€" well, to a point â€" was all good and well for those that wanted a chance to leave some mark on the world, desired for their names and their faces to be remembered for eternity. Or, for wicked souls like his uncle, James King, it was the opportunity to eliminate the so-called filth that tainted the earth so that only humans and dark hunters lived and breathed. Because hey, that's what balance meant, obviously... Whatever the reason for any one being to have some yearning to live forever, or until one was taken from this life by the only other means that could end them, it had never been anything that Lazarus wanted. He'd been just another kid, rebellious and always looking for a chance to cause trouble. But, as fate so often seemed to enjoy tormenting him, that was not how his story would play out. No, he was his father's one and only son, the "destined heir" to The Daray Council. Unlike most boys who dreamed of becoming firemen or police officers, maybe even aspiring as far as to one day be recognized as an astronaut or some great political figure well-known, wealthy, and respected without so much as the bat of an eye, he would have no such luxury. He had been deprived of that chance to make a life for himself. And who knows, maybe he might have had a genuine chance at being happy instead of living in the seemingly endless hell that played over and over against with every forsaken sunrise that came and went. Perhaps the man would have been more apt to become a normal, functioning part of modern-day society, following laws and not always seeking the temporary comforts of liquor and the taste of women on his tongue. He could have made a career for himself like his little sister was doing, maybe even found someone to share his world with and start a family all his own. Life could have been different for him in every absolute sense of the meaning.

Instead, his father had told Lazarus what his future would be. If the defiance and fury in him hadn't been something buried there in the deepest parts of his heart as a child, it had certainly become so firmly implanted into him on that very day, so much so that it was impossible to think of the man in any other light. Some would try and say that he was a bad egg from the start, but how could anyone be so sure that it had not been Tal who was to blame for all the things that Lazarus would do when he left his childhood behind for the life of a young adolescent male only just beginning to figure out what he could be capable of? Was it truly and entirely on part of Lazarus that he was the being he'd become, so lost in his own blackened misery that he could hardly find a reason beyond his little sister and protecting her from the rest of the world to keep waking up to the same fucked up life he was living like a broken record? For so long, he's been living for a single purpose despite his downright selfish tendencies and any true lack of genuine affections or fondness towards the honey-blonde woman that was, in a sense, his entire world. Without Ellie, there truly was nothing for him. It was her, the little girl he'd grown up watching over and now the young woman on her way to making a life all her own, that Lazarus was here. Before the death of their parents, it had been a choice. But now, it was no longer something that was optional. At least, not for him. Without their mother, father, or the family council to look after her, that duty fell firmly over the dark hunter's shoulders. It was a weight that he had taken willingly, and yet some might wonder why... If he was as selfish as he so often and so effortlessly acted, why then, would the man have committed himself to protecting her when he had been cut loose from the ties and responsibilities which had once bound him, only to be severed with the death of their parents?

He remembers her tears, the way that she'd clung to him as they sat there in silence, hidden in the underground shelter his parents had had built as a "just in case", should there ever be a time the family would need to retreat to somewhere safe. Surely they would never have thought in a million years it would ever have been used to hide the young man and woman from the beings responsible for the bloody scene Lazarus could never unsee. Just as he couldn't forget how she pressed against him with fear and uncertainty, her racing heart deafening in the dark hunter's eardrums as he held her closely to him. She'd buried her face in his shoulder, those tears soaking through his shirt as the hours seemed to drag on forever as their world fell apart above them... He could never forget how she'd needed him as they sat there in the back of the cop car, the flashing lights disrupting the dark as law enforcement investigated the double homocide they would easily dismiss as robbery when he knew without question it wasn't, the shaking of her shoulders with every soft sob when Lazarus told her that their parents were dead. He knew then, as she held onto him so tightly, taking him back to when they'd been so young and she had been afraid of the dark, that he could never leave her to try and find her own way in the world. And, while he would never in his lifetime - however long or short it might prove to be - openly admit that he needed her in turn, it could not be any more true of a fact that the man kept hidden from the world and his honey-blonde sister. Without her, there truly was no purpose for him in this world. He was not the man his parents had expected him to be, and frankly there was no way that he ever would be. But, Ellie saw something in him that no one else ever did. If there was one good thing in this world he could do, it was to ensure that she had everything in life she would ever want. This is why he made that promise over two years ago.

Tonight though, the man just wanted to get away from everything. He wanted as much distance between himself and his sister so insistent on trying to get in touch with the one woman Lazarus couldn't stand or get enough of in the same fucking moment. Lifting the glass to his grimacing lips, he downs the amber liquor before waving the bartender down for another. He doesn't even bother to look over his shoulder so those sharpened senses of his hear the front door of this hole-in-the-wall bar opens and closes. Dark forest eyes don't even shift away from those various bottles lining the shelves on the wall behind the bar as a feminine voice reaches out him. He simply lifts the glass to his lips again to take another deep drink before setting it back onto the scuffed counter."Sure", he almost mumbles with disinterest, despite her scent giving away the blonde's race. Donovan was were and the two men had a rather... interesting friendship of sorts, the man somehow ending up taking the former star of their high school's sports team when it had been the furthest thing from Lazarus's true intentions that day. For whatever reason, he catches the woman's voice as she orders an old-fashioned, even feeling her eyes upon him though still he is hardly interested enough to return the gesture. There had been a time once where he would have taken interest in the company he found himself in, but because of that damn witch, that was the last place his mind wanders to. He wasn't here to try and pick up a one-night stand. If anything, he had been seeking a female free night to just get drunk and stagger home sometime after one in the morning. But, as life so endearingly loved to do, the dark hunter was about to be deprived of such a seemingly simple desire.

Only when he hears the slurred words of another man does Lazarus actually glance in the direction of the woman and the drunkard she's caught the attention of. Now, any decent man might have told the guy to fuck off or something, but it was hardly in the man's nature to do so. Chivalry wasn't his thing. However, she is quick to show that she didn't need someone to jump to her defense, snarling at the idiot before gripping his hand which had been ballsy enough to venture along a very dangerous place. He is almost unable to keep a mildly amused and wolfish grin from his features as the petite creature beside him sends the man off in an irritated and staggering fit, Lazarus looking back to the bottles and taking another drink of the smooth whiskey already almost gone. Rather unexpected though, the woman's voice is once again reaching out to Lazarus, and this time dark forest green eyes meet deep emerald. He looks down to the glass and back up to the blonde before shaking his head, hardly even paying attention to the new woman standing in the doorway and making her way towards the drunkard, though still his innate awareness takes note of the shift and sudden tension that seeps into the previously lax ambiance."You're all clear", he answers nonchalantly in tenor tones. He studies her for a moment out of nothing more than casual observation, eyes that would have once gleamed with predatory interest almost entirely blank save for intrigue that hardly breaks the surface before dissipating again as he turns back to finish off his own glass. Again, Lazarus lifts his empty glass to snatch the bartender's attention, who at this point was eyeing the dark hunter as if contemplating cutting him off for the night. Luckily though, the provider for Lazarus's frayed escape decides against saying anything and obliges by filling that glass once more.

Before he can even lift the liquor to his lips, absorbed in the haze that finally begins to fall over him so that he misses the brief exchange of words between the drunk and another woman, it was when the familiar crack of knuckles against jawbone brush against his senses. He turns in enough time to see the guy hitting hardwood floor, a single brow lifting as dark forest eyes wander to the brunette standing over the unconscious guy. That escalated fast. Then again, it was hardly the first time he's seen a woman kick a guy's ass for harassing another female. They were unpredictable, women. It didn't matter whether they were human or not, the man with messy caramel-colored lock didn't even worry himself with trying to decipher what he could almost consider to be a foreign language. He knew enough of the basic signals and body language to get an idea of what his odds were when it came to making an attempt at stealing their sheets for the night, but the man never delved deeper than that. She turns to give a toothy smile to the group of people watching her in wide-eyed surprise and she makes her way over to the empty seat beside the blonde. Sliding onto the stood, she glances past the were and over to Lazarus as if she expected him to be up to something other than trying to get a strong buzz at the very least. He meets her gaze levelly as he lifts a brow, dark forest eyes and his mostly expressionless features seeming to say "what?" before turning back to the wall behind the bar. She orders two bourbons and the dark hunter wonders for the smallest of moments if one was for the were woman or if both were for herself. She definitely seemed capable of either. Maybe she was into women, or swings both ways. Who knows... and better yet, who cares? Not Lazarus. Months ago, he might have asked just to see if she was as easy to piss off as that punch to the drunk's face suggested, but not tonight.