Zazel had hoped the pain would remind the witch that she wasn't dealing with some old friend, that he wasn't here to help here, and that he wasn't going to do anything without something in return, but this seemed fruitless: even with blood staining the previously blue dress with streaks of red, she still persisted in being irritating, or at the very least not being more... afraid. He wasn't expecting her to be crying, but her brazen attitude was wearing thin on the demon, him not being used to mere mortals testing him like she seemed to. "No," he said, shaking his head slowly, "You won't get anything you to pay me back. You owe a debt of blood, and that must be upheld before another can deal can be made."<br/><br/>She motioned towards the hole in his shirt and he looked down.  The skin seemed more like rock, blackened, cracked, and worn, some red glow emanating from within clearly exposing him as not of this world, not of this plane even. "I don't know," he said, looking up at her, "The teenager was less annoying. I liked the fact she was more fearful, less testing. She wouldn't try and burn a demon, she wouldn't try and sleep with one either." Perhaps reminding her of the humanity she seemed to be rapidly leaving behind would reel her back towards it, put an end to the less than desirable behaviour.<br/><br/>"I have no address, this is your debt, not mine." He grinned at her, taking a step forwards as she took a step back, looking at her with yellow eyes. "And you couldn't handle seeing<i>me,</i>" he said. "You can barely control yourself when I look like a man, if you see a monster I doubt you'd remain sane for very  long - if striking a yearly deal could be seen as particularly sane."