"Well, if you think it's unjustified for my anger at this attack --" Audrice shrugged, "-- then anger at the murderers must leave you<i>baffled</i>."<br/><br/>Though he find himself alone with attacker from before. He turned to have his full attention to this strange atttacker, quite obviously a mage of shadow, and in the process of turning to face her the tip of one of his boots crushed the cigar that was still on the floor. Those eyes were still in their beastly state, keen vision focused on the figure, adrenaline surging through his veins as fast as his blood could ferry it, and both hands now focused on the shadow. He still paid little attention to his hat and cloak that rested on the floor. That snarl was still ever-present on his usually confident and relaxed-looking features. The heat seemed to not even phase him, something he had been used to for a long time, and the fact that he was a werewolf meant that he was gifted with a naturally higher body temperature than other humans, or other species. For him, the blazing heat at his hands was hardly noticeable -- though it made it a pain when selecting what kind of clothes to where, or at least it had when he had been younger that had been the case.<br/><br/>"Then come at me, stranger." He looked to where the eyes would be, approximately, "Even if you can't show your face, you couldn't be so cowardly to pass up the first move."<br/><br/>Both hands focused on her, as he squatted down low. The fire did gift him with at least one thing: stripping the area immediately about him of any particularly advantagious shadows for his enemy to use against him.<br/><br/>"If you wish to test what I am capable of, so be it." He shook his head, "Even if you win this once, I've had many a year to fight, and I have eternity to perfect myself. Can you say the same?"<br/><br/>He was ready to fight: nostrils flaring, eyes narrowed, and body poised to strike.