The witch’s words were not what Zazel had expected: he had thought of her as ‘professional’, as knowing what she was doing, as tempting danger only to show herself as someone not to be underestimated. Almost callous disregard for the human – with whom her kind was meant to be at some sort of peace with – and a strange affection for demons were one thing, but announcing some plan where sleeping with him was but a<i>step</i>… it was not unheard of for humans to try such a trick, yet it would hardly work. If she was planning to call of the debt that way, she would have to be disappointed, the same if she was hoping for a more favourable second exchange. “A step…” he echoed, tilting his head slightly as if trying to figure out a particularly devious puzzle. “You don’t trust me, and yet you’re trying to get me to bed. Plan or no plan, if it’s a step or not, that doesn’t seem like something you’d do with someone you don’t trust.”<br/><br/>He saw his explanation of her unravelling power have some negative impact, and inwardly rolled his eyes – of all people, he would have expected her to know that this power was not something which could be tamed. It was like walling off the ocean – it worked for a few years, maybe decades if you were lucky, but all it took was for one crack to appear, and the rest of the wall would crumble very, very fast. Then she said something which caught him off-guard, but spawned a grin to challenge the Cheshire Cat, making him sit up and remove the arm from around her shoulders. “You want to keep making deals? Year in, year out? Eventually you’ll have nothing left to offer, no influence to control others, no power to defend yourself… you’ll either kill yourself when whatever’s inside you becomes too much to handle, or someone will do it for you when they realise you aren’t entirely what you say you are… And when you’ve nothing left to give, it isn’t your favours I’ll be coming for…” he left the end hanging, but he knew the implication was clear.<br/><br/>And then the grin vanished, the fingers at her neck became more like claws, sharpened nails scratching at her skin. Zazel was a prideful creature, and no-one would get away with calling him weak, witch or no witch. “It isn’t my fault if<i>you’re</i>too weak to control them. Don’t blame me for your inadequacies, don’t pin your own failure on me.”<br/><br/>Then she stood up, and Zazel made sure the claws left marks: thin, bloody lines. It was small and petty, but anything that would make her life harder would ease his ego. He felt the magic from her as she teased him, and despite his worsened mood, let her get away with it. He watched her leave, and vaguely wondered if her plan was to fuck him or fuck him over. Either way, it wouldn’t work. He waited a moment as she walked out, and taking one more drink, followed after her, cigarette discarded on the table as he licked the blood from the tips of his fingers.