Why did the hunter have the feeling that his version of alright was completely different from Drake's? He didn't like how this was going one bit, but part of him thought he had to put his trust into the vampire. He'd known Drake long enough now that he liked to think he knew him. At least a little bit. The pair entered the room and Ryah couldn't help but notice two things. The lack of blood and the smell of cheap cigarettes floating in the air, permeating his apartment. He scowled, hackles rising already.<br/><br/>He kept mum though, wanting to see how this played out, see how Drake and Kane reacted to one another. From Drake's frosty words, it sounded like perhaps Kane cheated on him? It was hard to tell. They didn't exactly seen very verbose or excited to see one another. Or at least, Drake didn't.<br/><br/>The temperature in the room dropped by about 10 degrees even though for Ryah, it felt like his blood was on heating, boiling just beneath the surface, like a volcano, ready to set the world on fire. A child? A little<i>puppy</i>? He'd show Kane just what kind of canine he was like. A Rottweiler ready to tear into his limbs more like, all brute force and anger, sinking his teeth into flesh and bone and blood.<br/><br/>His scowl only darkened when Drake got between them. That wasn't going to stop Ryah from emptying an entire magazine into the demon's face. And the hunter would enjoy doing it too. Or maybe he'd try for a knife again. Up close and personal would be much more satisfying. He snagged his sharpest blade from the wooden block in the kitchen. "You wanna go at it, asshole?" He snapped.