they argued my right to ascension

The woman's concern for her companions was touching- he supposed, some part of what remained of his emotional range at least willing to admit that this particular pack did seem to hold some sort of emotional attachment too one another as opposed to some of the others he had seen over the year. His ability to truly care for the feelings of some sort of hellish she-wold creature however, were shockingly limited, golden gaze merely sliding back towards the unconscious forms of the two men upon the floor- to toe of his boot tapping nonchalantly against the side of the sleeping leopard.

"They are still breathing, what more do you want?"

Had he his way entirely he would have simply removed both their heads while they were otherwise sedated and yet for now at least the Council was more interested in leaving them relatively unchecked and unharmed, if only for the control they had managed to bring to the Were population of the west side, a control that was evidently being challenged if the state of the woman before him was anything to go by. How he became involved in such messes he hardly knew, irritation already evident in each hard line of his ever youthful form and the girl very near cringed away from him, clinging to her blankets as if he held some desire to remove them from her. The very thought of touching them alone was already repulsive enough to him- each and every sense within his frame pulled taut and tense as a static of sorts continued to dance with discomfort across his skin at being so close to so many supernaturals, setting the already irritable man only further on edge. The explanation for the wounds she offered however, managed to earn her the raise of a single eye in some modicum of surprise before his every indifferent façade returned once more, offering little more then a soft snort in response. He was hardly surprised really, the nature of the wounds perhaps making a little more sense now- given the context, golden eyes once more roving loosely across her form to rest upon any of the more obvious damage before offering something of a shrug.

"I know who Frostbite is- I have had the pleasure of his company before. Back in the day the Mounted Division of the council could still geld stallions, it settled them down a hell of a lot, apparently however that is now a violation of human rights- unfortunate that, it would have saved us a lot of grief in Russia. Not that your kind really is human....."

His words are little more than an absentminded mutter, lip quirking slightly in some faint vein of humour, entirely unconcerned by how his view upon the rights of Were's may very well make the woman before him uncomfortable. His bedside manner never had been wholly acceptable, even in his earlier career he had remained content to tell any of his patients exactly why doing whatever it was they had done to become injured was nothing short of a display of faulty intelligence. People always were a little...vapid and Azrael always had been a little...upfront in regards to his thoughts. His second inquiry comes more softly, the faintest trace of....something seeming to linger within the depths of his baritone voice as he asked after the witch whom had so seen fit to bond herself to this ridiculous animal. It had been weeks since he had last seen the raven-hared woman, his determination to stay away from her having at least resulted in no further nights upon her doorstep, allowing him to only further deny any taint of attraction to the woman he may have once felt- and evidently still did. The retort upon his lips in response to the wolf's words fell away with almost the same suddenness as which it had appeared, the sudden appearance of the very woman in question seeing him near pivot in place to face her now.

It was the same every time. The shock of it no less potent, the mere sight of her resulting in his very breath catching within his lungs so that for just a single moment he is left simply staring watching her slender figure from beneath those locks of his own white golden hair. Maybe Fate simply was cruel. In a more perfect world she would have been nothing but a human, something obtainable, something not so entirely outside and beyond his reach, the mere thoughts he allows himself to have in regards to her enough to implicate him let alone the one ill-fated moment he had already allowed himself some months ago. She really was a.....beautiful woman. So similar to what he remembered and yet there were....differences too, subtle though they were- they had steadily become more and more apparent in even her personality itself. Who was she talking to? The brief softness to his features is hardened once more, golden eyes slicing sideways in search of some unseen company, the witch evidently determined to send someone to the corner, the Hunter's gaze attempting to follow the motion of her hand before a look of confusion managed to cloud his gaze. Had she gone fucking mad? This....was a less attractive quality.

"Serafina, who are talk-"

The witch's words in regards to the men Azrael had very near forgotten existed saw his attention deviate downward now at the collapsed felines, a spike of...something, an emotion he has never forgotten the feel off, rising somewhere within his chest, teeth gritting slightly before he manages a soft snort.

"I think you'll find that is illegal. I also don't know what your experience of 'fucking' is but an unconscious man is not going to provide you with very much satisfaction."

The words are snapped with perhaps a little too much force behind them. He held no right, not truly, to feel any sense of possession over the woman and yet the undeniable sting of something very akin to jealousy has managed to work its way into his mentality, resulting in the agitated, irritable display that has just occurred despite his attempts to both hide and deny such a thing beneath his often frosted façade. Why the woman seemed so irritable however was another matter entirely, his response to such agitation being little more then to become agitated right back- his personality decidedly combative when it chose to be. So many years of living to entirely alone perhaps resulting in this confliction of emotions- all of which seem to have combined into irritation once more as he regards the raven-haired witch now- a look of surprise suddenly seeing his eternally youthful features smooth at last.

"Are....you wearing my jacket?"

One hand lifts, gesturing loosely at the hooded jacket she had donned, one several sizes to big for her and one that looked distinctly familiar- that single article of clothing the result of a search that had existed for several months now, gaze narrowing slightly. At the risk of the woman removing it however, and distracting him entirely from anything else, he simply remains further silent upon the matter, muttering momentarily beneath his breath at the ridiculousness of women before gesturing towards Raven once more.

"A lot of her wounds look to be on her sides and chest, she is going to have to let go of that blanket if she wants any help from me and take off any shirt or....undergarment she might be wearing. One of us is at least going to have to look and I have every belief she might prefer another woman at first. I will get rid of Alejandro and Fernando since they seem to be of a fucking distraction to you."

Literally. He moves easily to hoist Tobias up and over one shoulder, reaching down to grasp Tetradore's foot before proceeding to drag and carry them both towards the other end of the room and into the bathroom, managing to calm himself, if only slightly, words softer now as the bathroom door slams closed behind him- Azrael moving to lean back against it.

"See what you can fix with your....magic, I will attempt to fix anything you can't, alright?'

Maybe then he would ask her what exactly she seemed so furious about. Men never were all that good at knowing when they were in the wrong.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread