Try living a hundred years in his shoes and you would know exactly what it takes to be emotionally alienated from the rest of the world. A single night was not enough to know a person, and he would have judged her harshly still if she had not been skeptical of his antics in the harsh light of day. He reveled in his duplicity in a way that most men never lived to see. A human’s lifespan was only supposed to be, on average, between seventy and eighty, with the grateful few stretching out their years like their skin stretched out, paper thin, across their faces to ninety and more. Though at that point, there was less<i>living </i>and more idling. What James Sinclair had accomplished as a man was akin to being a monster. And only those with that little<b>touch </b>of something else could be bothered to achieve it. The measures to taken, the steps that propelled him forward on this alleged grand journey –<i>horse shit</i>– came with a price bigger than a sane person had to pay.<br/><br/>That was one thing he at least never claimed to be.<br/><br/>As embittered as he might have been over lost loves and missed opportunities thanks to the follies of his past, Adella had chosen widely in picking the mellower man; he was easy to control and paid no mind to her perilous ambitions in the dark arts. Something like guilt briefly crossed his features as he watched the knowledge race into Lane’s awareness. But at least now she knew – and she couldn’t even say that he hadn’t warned her. She was a grown up. And in a way, she was more of one than even he was. It was something that James had immediately admired about the young woman who suddenly showed her hand when she stood from the chair and commanded him. He watched as she made her way into the kitchen, then back into the living room.<br/><br/>He grinned first, green eyes flashing up at her once, but he eventually shuffled from his own seat to clear the living room. He wandered instead into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee and only wondered briefly if he should drink the rest of the tea. You know. For science. Speaking of…<br/><br/>“I told you before you drank the tea just what it would do. You didn’t have to do it. I think, Laney, you misunderstood my intentions to some extent.” He grinned now, flashing pearly whites in her direction as he dragged a mug down from a cabinet after searching two others and filled it with the dark brew. He took it black this time. It seemed appropriate to what was going to transpire in the apartment. “If you didn’t want to know, you wouldn’t have kept questioning who you were, and then you wouldn’t have drank the tea. I might have had ulterior motives, but you’re the one who made the convention. Don’t sound so bitter because you found out a few things that potentially broke some delusions about your ancestor.”<br/><br/>His lids lowered as he turned his attention away from the blonde, though an amused smile toyed at the corners of his mouth. She was something else, wasn’t she? The inner musing worked its way deeper into his thought, but he didn’t have the opportunity to say anything more before he felt the pressure in the room take hold. The mug he brought to his lips to take a drink from was quickly jerked back down as his head shot up. The witch’s fire burned bright in his eyes, twisting violet that wanted to jump right out of his stare to dance with her own power, thick in the apartment. The crackle of his own power rose dangerously close to the surface, taunting his control, as he struggled to watch the rift she had sliced right into their reality as simply as if she were buttering bread.<b>He </b>couldn’t even do what she was doing now without blood and a firmer circle to cage the being she coerced out from its own domain.<br/><br/>Shirtless still, his muscles rippled with tension. It took his brain a hot minute to realize that he was gripping the coffee mug tightly enough to turn his knuckles white. Setting it down, he convinced his feet to walk him around the kitchen counter and back into the living room, where he was poised to assist the girl in case she needed the aid.<br/><br/>From the looks of things, however, it appeared she needed no such help; in fact, with the way she carried herself now, he would only be a hindrance to the power that emanated from her in undulating waves, brightly lit with the colors of her aura. She was a vibrant, otherworldly thing from the viewpoint of the Sight he held onto, even if his eyes squinted and watered in resistance. Absently in his mind, he doubted that she even needed the words that colored her offense toward the minor demon. The Latin was only a focal point. He stored a reminder for himself away for later to get a sample of her blood. Just as he doubted that she needed the spell, he doubted that she was fully human either.<br/><br/>His eyes snapped shut finally against the light that pulsed from her being, white hot and searing, promptly throwing the Veil back in place over his eyes. Once the shrill shriek of the demon faded and the room sizzled with the aftermath, he dared open his eyes again. Spots danced, but he saw her slump down and rushed over to slide his arms underneath hers to hoist her back up before she toppled down. No matter that she stood up straighter for the benefit of her own stubbornness. His touch lingered longer than he anticipated and had his hands stroking down her back as he guided her into the chair.<br/><br/>His eyes danced with the lasting effects of his own magic brought to the surface as he crouched down in front of her and brought his hands together in a slow clap. The smile planted on his face was lopsided. It was only the expression on his face, mirroring the admiration in his eyes that left a serious impression.<br/><br/>“That depends,” he said at least. “Do you still<i>want</i>to help summon a pissed off demoness and ask her nicely to remove her brand, spare our lives, and add the underlying threat of<i>smiting</i>her into oblivion if she doesn’t do what we ask? It could be a fun second or third date, I think. A true bonding moment for us.”