they argued my right to ascension

A part of the blonde man was half inclined to ask the ridiculous warlock beside him what exactly it was he was thinking about in those few moments that they strolled along the harbour, Davante seeming so entirely lost in thought that he hardly seemed to notice anything around him. He would never make a Hunter, of that Azrael was entirely assured. Perhaps, regrettably, he had some talent in regards to the removal of targets and yet that is where any of his skill seemed to end, the man in possession of some form of ADD, else maybe his brain had simply switched off entirely- Azrael hardly cared nor felt he was particularly surprised by such a notion. That Davante had actually managed to retrieve the artefact from the bloodhound was mildly impressive and yet Azrael truly sees no need to offer him any form of true praise. Praise, after all, was never something he had been entirely forthcoming in receiving and perhaps, by this same turn, he was unwilling to offer it unless the warlock managed to do something entirely exceptional- although really Azrael has begun to doubt there is anything exceptional about the man save for his continued ability to be exceptionally un-funny. One hand reached forward to take the offered object, little more than a typical male grunt offered by way of communication before the Hunter simply pivoted on his heel to head in the direction of the next target once more.

That Davante may well have never actually considered the use of bones had never really occurred to the Hunter, after all, such a thing seemed so entirely obvious- his own question posed merely from some part of himself that was evidently curious, despite his efforts not to be, the warlocks shrug earning him the mere lift of an eye, genuine surprise seeming to linger upon the blonde's ever-youthful features at the knowledge the other man truly hadn't ever attempted breaking bones. The end of his sentence however, earned him little more than a scowl.

"Breaking bones could be subtle if you actually tried- and without a need to use your hands you could make it look like an accident a lot of the time, you merely need to learn how not to be so ridiculously showy all the time. As for practicing on myself if you make even the slightest attempt to do that I will disintegrate you and you can appreciate your love for a disintegrated body first hand."

The majority of the words were snapped rather unceremoniously towards the other man, Azrael's patience, or lack thereof, a rather legendary thing amongst the vast majority of the supernatural world, his ability to tolerate Davante beginning to wear thin once more and as such it was almost surprising that he actually sought to move the man out of harm's way in the wake of the agitated Fae- a movement he near instantly regretted. It surely would have been far easier to merely let the Fae assault him, if anything perhaps it would have silenced the warlock for at least several minutes and afforded Azrael the peace and silence he is normally permitted to enjoy. Why he had so instantly moved to protect the warlock he hardly knew, a reflex, he is sure, an action holding little true meaning behind it and nothing else- a trained response. After all, he hardly likes the warlock. Especially considering the man was still prattling on about magic being a disease. For half a moment the Hunter was given to pause- if only to actually assess his hand, eyes flicking briefly down to assure no obvious notes of disease had actually afflicted him before seeming to realise entirely what he had done, eyes narrowed in agitation before one curse word or another was muttered beneath his breath.

"Just do your fucking job."

Magic, he is sure, is not wholly communicable...surely not....what could he possibly catch? It was almost a shame Davante had ridded himself of that last cigarette, Azrael finding he was half inclined to enjoy it himself before the matter of the ridiculous Fae seemed to place itself in the forefront of his mind, the Hunter moving to dispatch it easily enough- leaving Davante to deal with the metal and subsequent interrogation as his own foot pressed back against the Fae creatures wing, holding him in place for Davante to work as those golden eyes drifted back to his companion, waiting for the man to actually do something useful. That Davante may have been entirely content to test out his new bone-breaking powers had hardy occurred to the Hunter, a vague look of curiosity momentarily touching his features at the audible snap of the Fae's ankle, the screams that followed hurriedly silenced as it seemed to lose the inability to actually part it's teeth.

"That- I like."

It was perhaps the closet the often apathetic blonde has ever truly come to a compliment in regards to another's performance, his words surprisingly free of the usual begrudging tone with which he had taken to speaking to Davante in, eyes continuing to rest on the rapidly breaking Fae as his curses seemed to become entirely more....co-operative the more his fingers began to break and snap. Perhaps- once, he may have cared about such treatment of another living being, maybe once he would have begged Davante to stop, to leave the creature alone and yet that part of himself simply fails to exist any longer. Perhaps so much damage is unnecessary and yet, within the same breath he is entirely aware that nothing less would be offered to him had this Fae or any of his Monarchy gotten their hands on him. The world is cruel, it is harsh- as Azrael finds he has very little pity left of anything or anyone- not anymore. It hardly takes long for something akin to an actual answer to fountain from the Fae's lips, Azrael merely lifting one hand to signal Davante to stop his bone breaking before his attention returned to the Fae man.

"You've been helpful, even if not utterly forthcoming but I'm willing to stop your pain all the same."

For a moment the Faerie truly seemed pleased at this idea, too much pain often making creatures far more compliant then they normally were to any of Azrael's ideas, the Fae almost seeming hopeful for a moment that the golden haired Hunter truly was about to attempt to assist him. Perhaps 'hopeful' is a pleasant last emotion to actually feel, the Hunter moving with that sudden, astounding speed once more to reach behind himself in a sudden flurry of movement, his sword withdrawn, twisted and plunged straight into the chest of the offending creature all within the same mere second before he simply moves to pull it free, blood wiped simply across his pants as the sword is returned to it's place in the sheath upon his back- the entire affair an utterly emotionless thing as the Hunter simply moves to brush past Davante, heading further down the dock and towards the location he had been given- a single orb of light tossed over his shoulder, the body exploding into ash mere moments later to be swept away in the wind.

Death had so long ago lost any real meaning to him- he simply no longer cared, attention focused instead upon his newest location, a different warehouse. He paused only long enough to assure himself Davante was actually following, the man's interrogation attempts not wholly unsatisfactory and yet once more no compliment finds it's way to his lips, more so- the lack of an insult perhaps speaks for his approval- fleeting though it is, the sudden and overwhelming sense of Fae very near halting him in his tracks. That the miserable little creature hadn't lied was perhaps the most surprising discovery of the afternoon, Azrael's attention drifting now towards the one and only window that existed above.

"Oh Davante..."

There is perhaps far too much pleasantness in his voice in this moment, amusement seeming to linger upon his features before on hand moved to suddenly point at...something upon the ground at the base of the warehouse and beneath the window.

"You're the artefact expert- what the hell is that?"

That- was in fact a rock, with nothing remarkable about it at all and yet if there is anything Azrael has deduced in regards to the warlock- the man was inexplicably curious, the Hunter merely waiting for Davante to simply bend over to examine this rock before suddenly stepping up and onto his back- using the other man as a step-ladder now, quite content to force him onto his hands and knees to better fulfil his role as a living step.

"Don't bloody drop me, just stay the fuck still- I need to see."

Unnecessary- perhaps and yet the amusement he took from it was hardly invaluable, golden eyes focused now readily upon the inside of the warehouse and the rows upon rows of card tables- and Fae that adorned them. His information had been more than wrong in this regard. There were far more then a handful of Fae within, along with several warlocks and witches, head turned down to look towards his companion, taping him with the heel of his boot for attention.

"There's a lot more in there then I was told, including several of your own kind, although for now that is actually helpful- you play poker don't you? You look like you'd waste your time with that. I may have a plan."

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread