If only I had answers for questions relating to the Shadow who had taken on a life of it's own in the briefest of moments. There had, as of late, been a tendency towards this behavior, with the Shadow's writhing around in the darkness something I was absolutely unable to control. Believe me, if I had been able to do a thing about the miscreant, I would have. There was nothing I liked less than being unable to predict the whereabouts of my own shadow, as if it was something alive all by itself when in all actuality that might have been the case at this point. When I simply accepted it's existence and it's ... uncontrollable movement, all I could think of was the tick-tock of the clock in the alligator's stomach, buried deep in the belly of the story of Peter Pan, the sound reminding me of the way Pan's shadow flitted mercilessly out of his reach. Perhaps that was my fate, too, save for any kind of theatrical battle between myself, pirates, alligators, and fairies... Well, perhaps there would be some form of a theatrical battle between myself and a handful of fairies, located in the warehouse close by. The only thing that alerted me to the surprise the Hunter must have been manifesting was his silence. Apparently the Shadow had rendered him speechless, regardless of it's animosity towards me though I would have been sure that the latter would have pleased the man immensely. As if imploring Azrael to accept the existence of the Shadow in the manner which I already had, I shrugged a shoulder at his question that was quickly followed by a demand.

"Would if I could, would if I could."

I let my eyes rest on Azrael's features, watching as his surprise and stunned expression morphed into one of agitated disgust, complimented by a soft glow that seemed to emanate from his figure. What, was that like a defense mechanism? Momentarily, I was reminded of how an octopus expelled ink at a seconds notice in moments of fight or flight, attempting to clog the vision of the threat. Was that what Azrael attempted to do with his light? The poor hunter was disturbed by a little Shadow! I couldn't keep the snicker from being audible as his expression morphed once again into a scowl, supporting my theory that he was, in fact, moderately disturbed by the Shadow's existence and fascination with him. It is only when Azrael's gaze lands on the 'tin can' that I find myself losing the edge of humor with which I had regarded his surprise at the Shadow, and said edge being replaced by a thoughtfulness that might have sounded earnest.

"I know your taste is most likely cheap and bad, so I just thought of you when I saw it."

My response was filled with false earnestness as he extended his own hand in order to procure the hilt from me. Suspicion fills his eyes as they scrutinize the hilt, taunting me with questions about whether or not this was an object of cultural importance. To that, my eyebrows merely rose as if the question was something that deserved no response. Indeed, witches and warlocks roamed the earth handing out swords to one another as a sign of something or other!

"When it is physically touching you, the silver is most conductive to your light so it will produce stronger beams. It's laced with a bit of an illusion-based magic... allowing you to do or say things that appear to be untruths and whatever is forthright will be believed by whomever is looking."

The brief description was all I had for him. There were no item descriptions that were mandatory with any of the weapons I created, and I wasn't about to start with Azrael as the first recipient. Surely those words would answer the question resonating in his eyes as they lifted from hilt to meet mine and when they did, I was alerted by his dripping sarcasm. Half of me wanted to remark that I was glad he admitted to being ancient, but his words drew only a snort of laughter before being followed by an entirely different statement.

"Perhaps they would be better company, yeah?"

I was able to enter the warehouse with immense ease, though my entrance into said building was not without noticing the unhappy glare I received from the displeased Hunter. Surely he knew that pink was his color! Unaffected by his displeasure, I paused to take in the scenery of the warehouse while I waited for Azrael's appearance past the bodyguards, noting that there were far less warlocks than I had expected given Azrael's initial description. The fae, on the other hand, were plenty. After what seemed like far too long, I can smell the essence of jasmine and floral abundance as a telltale sign that Azrael was closing in. When his words are muttered in some kind of irritated hiss, a smile tainted by a wicked pleasure I took out of his disturbance began ebbing onto my lips.

"Without a doubt."

I had no question that I would be the most skilled poker player in the Casino, save for perhaps the head of the operation. Even if my personal skill wasn't enough to win as many games as I needed, I had the benefit of illusions to help me close any gap I needed to. The illusions would take care of the card game, and as I sat down I expected to play my way through the hands quickly. There were no expert players at my table, meaning that each of the first rounds were won without any kind of obstacle. Once I had worked my way through the first table and bought into a table that had a higher price, I easily began taking the participants' money. There was only one player who might have known who I was, but he accepted my presence as my appearance seemed without suspicion ... Until a drink was placed in front of me that was a strange color of pink and a voice I wished I didn't know permeated the small talk that had been occurring over the game. Was there no reprieve from the humorless and ... odorous Hunter?

"He can see my cards! Davante, what the fuck is this? If you ain't careful, your poof-ass pink man candy is going to be smacked off this table like a piñata at a kids birthday!" The warlock who would have known me apparently did, and did not appreciate my boyfriend... Back up. Boyfriend? My jaw locked at those words, and my gaze paused on my cards before moving at a scouring rate to greet said boyfriend. With a deathly slow inhale, I blinked up at him with the same kind of slowness that effused disgust.

"Oh, baby I don't even need luck. I have you right here," I said slowly, the words dripping honey in a way that made me want to vomit. In order to keep myself from doing just that, I lifted the drink to my lips, trying as hard as I could to keep from looking like a child angry about eating vegetables as the liquid touched my tongue, swallowing with a shudder of disgust. "What the fuck is this?" With a perturbed look, I put the drink down with a huff and attempted to refocus my attention onto the game in front of me, though the participants were now staring with their mouths opening at a frighteningly quick rate.

"Keep your fucking mouth shut, or I'm sure he'll be glad to fill it for you," I hissed through closed teeth. Azrael's retreating back gave me cause to absolutely slaughter the rest of the game, the petulant scowl marring my features until I had won enough times that they all but kicked me out of the group, insinuating I would have better luck with my "fairy" than I would at getting past the next table. Instead of buying in right away, I took a moment to wind my way through the crowd to find my fairy friend, having to contain myself strongly in order to keep from yanking him by the ear to a dark corner, and burying him beneath some other heinous illusion that was rife with boils and pus.

"If you weren't contaminated by warlock-diseases earlier, I hope you are now."

My words were offered in passing as I let a trickle of the nasty pink drink trickle down the back of his neck. When I returned to a table, there was a gentle tap on my shoulder of a rather large, menacing and butch-looking female fairy beckoning me to join a private game located behind a black curtain. This was the invitation I had been waiting for, and without hesitation I stood but not before grabbing Azrael's gaze and nodding to him, ensuring he knew that while we had been beginning what looked like a lover's-spat, I was still focused on what he had asked me to do. The king would be easy for me to ... disperse of, especially as while the Fae knew it or not, there were iron suppositories in the dirt beneath the building; I could all but feel it willing me to ask it to rise through the floor and slide effortlessly into the king's body.