Strangely enough, out on the street, a scene almost the mirror of Ariel's maltreatment was taking place.  Benedict, with a crossing arm still placed over Verena's chest to keep her in place, watched without expression as she rid herself of the poorly fitted disguise and took on something else.  Though his face was blank, the obvious questions were obvious even if he does not ask them of her.  Is this too, a disguise?  What is she?  Is the woman she tried to be an image of someone she knew or perhaps who she was before she took on these demonic aspects.<br/><br/>After a long moment, he bares his teeth lazily and drinks of the vial.  He lets the potent brew settle, blue eyes brightening.  He sniffs, chuckling to himself, as he leans in to lick at her cheek.  The long, luxurious drag of his tongue across her cheek leaves a trail of wet saliva before resting his head upon her shoulder.  "I much prefer this form."  His voice has gone husky, and it's not hard to figure out why, as he presses himself against the "trapped" woman.  "They will not wait long, and we've-- well, I have a responsibility to the angel but a little appetizer before battle will sweeten victory for me."  His free hand, previously holding the vial, throws it aside and places it on her knee.  Gently, he traces his way along her leg until his hand is upon the thigh just below the draping of the loincloth.<br/><br/>With not a care that the streets are full, he brushes the material aside, sliding his entire hand between her legs.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>