<span style="font-style: italic">Raphael..</span>Erlind informed Kai. The thought transference conveyed a calm tone.<span style="font-style: italic">His corporeal presence is wholly strange. He may be here for me, or to witness the events, recording them to insure that they were accurate. Minimizing their interaction with the world... Isn't that what ones of his ranks would do!?</span><br/><br/>Kai almost scoffed at that, only his knowledge of social graces made him uphold the make-believe front he put up. Angels... To hell with them. Someone like Raphael shouldn't be here. Wasn't his rank not to interfere with the common world? Was he there to imprison Asmodeus again and punish himself for freeing him? That was way too long ago to matter, was it not, he wondered as his fingertips softly ran along the edge of his jacket's sleeve.<span style="font-style: italic">Go tell him that, maybe he will listen.</span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Ah! I tell you, I wouldn't mind turning my body to dust just to find out what this masquerade's all about.</span>the voice requested once again. Kai's smirk returned with full mirth, maybe even surpassing its previous limits, but its dark undertone grew just as well.<span style="font-style: italic">I am but an advocate, Asmodeus. How could I possibly know? I'm simply in for the bloodshed that follows after the politics. It's good to keep yourself at high places at times like that - it's more likely that you will get to see the massacre from the top, if you know what I mean.</span>At that one remark, his smirk got a rather malicious undertone, through a narrow gap between his thin lips revealing his teeth. His onyx-black eyes followed across the woman on Erlind's side to the officer two seats away who appeared to just arrive, and then, without any further interest, he turned his head away.<br/><br/>His attention was quickly dragged back to Isolde at her answer to his question. "Surely your cousin then must be a very generous man, even more so than I suspected him to be. May I ask for your name, milady?" he requested off her, softly bowing his head, and looking up at her from below his black lashes, a few loose strands of silky black hair sliding into his face.<br/><br/>Shortly after, though, the great leader's appearance on the stage forced his eyes off her, and he picked himself up with the elegance of a cat, placing the hat onto the corner of the chair to avoid sitting onto it by accident when he'd sit down. He raised his right arm, the black glove flying up above his head, but his voice was just about as loud as he had to make it to appear believable.<br/><br/>What a load of trash talk. His blood was boiling hot like hellfire as he listened to the 'Quirky Moustache', as he in his mind nicknamed the Fuhrer. Empty words, empty words. The West declared war, that was interesting, though... A conflict will break out soon, and his chance to feel joy from the screams of battlefield, the pre-mortal agony mixing with cawing of crows, scavengers and corpse thieves, ground sinking in and turning to swamps under the blood that soaks into it... For a moment, he caught Adolph's glance, but his cold eyes returned it as nothing but mirrors, with no expression.<br/><br/>He jerked his head to the side as the shout<span style="font-style: italic">“The Jews! THE JEWS!”</span>came from the balcony. He was too old to believe these make-believe conflicts, but he said naught. Turning Mittenwald Town into a destruction harbor wasn't his concern at the very least. Human lives had little to no value in his eyes - they were like sheep and cattle.<br/><br/>Making little sound but soft clatter with his hands, encased in soft black leather, he clapped along with the crowd at the speech's end, enlightened that this speech is over already.<span style="font-style: italic">I hope he isn't going to talk more. I can't wait for the war when it breaks out, but the formalities before it are a bore. This physical form is sensitive to long talk and empty words and he's loud like a siren to add to it.</span>he quipped to Asmodeus, sitting back down, and elegantly crossing his legs.<span style="font-style: italic">I suspect he likes the sound of his voice, but the opinion of other people isn't his concern then, am I not right?</span>He slid two fingers behind his shirt's collar, loosening the red tie, patterned with a complicated picture of royal lilies as glossy burgundy on matte. He stole a glance to his left, then to his right, where the woman was sat. The cold black spikes, not reflecting the joy his smile tried to convey so believably, hollow wells in which one could easily drown, lingered there for a moment, as if he was feeding on the very appearance of hers.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Purely academic interest,</span>he convinced himself. He was only interested in working out the mysteries of her witchcraft. His black heart was adamant at love - nothing but the shallow shell of lust was left in it, to consume and throw away like a toy, used and no longer of interest. He had a mile of barbed wire wrapped around it.<br/><br/>Kai didn't feel human emotions like that. A moment's sentiment was nothing.