Armas smiled and nodded to her, promising that he would do his best, however he was not quick to return. When night had completely fallen and the trees' limbs seemed to stretch out towards the house with an eerie groan escaping them as twigs snapped a figure began to loom the moonlit path to the house. It was Armas of course, coming back so late that the moon had fully cast its eerie glow upon the house. The roses were illuminated by it as if they were small lamps, but Armas did not appear this way. At least not now.<br/><br/>His devilish horns protruded from the top of his head as his eyes gleamed a metallic yellow in the night. He had a semi large sack thrown over his shoulder and when he made his way up to the steps he dropped it.<br/><br/>The bag made a sickening thud, hitting the wooden porch. Its contents snapping up a few now, broken, planks planks. Armas looked none to pleased and frankly he was drained of his usual energy. His already snow white skin was as pale and dry as nitrogen ice. His eyes were a sullen white rather than their captivating beautifully crystallized blue and his lips appeared less vibrant in contrast to his skin now. The corners of his mouth were drawn down, gray pink, revealing the tightening muscles in his jaw. He seemed frustrated, beaten, and completely unwilling to put up with any nonsense.<br/><br/>Finch was even well aware of his emotional status. She could only think of the bull he went through to get that food and she tossed her head, pawing at the ground in frustration.<br/><br/>It would be a surprisingly easy for her to try something now, but with Finch, it was still out of her league of options. Armas was weak, tired, and what seemed to be, completely disregarding of her danger.