Dante turned away from the humans as Lolita came down the stairs. They weren't worth his time anyhow. As much as he detested the woman, she was at least slightly more worthy of his attention. She was a rat; a bigger pest, but a pest that could be taught tricks. Rats could also carry the plague, however; he was careful not to forget that.<br/><br/>The Leader laughed in her face. "You think me soft?? Willing or forced, drunk or sober, an insect is an insect, and the challenge is no greater," he replied condescendingly, his frigid blue eyes settling on her, "You will learn. Hunting can't be a challenge for you any longer. And when there is no challenge left, there is no particular enjoyment of the sport.<br/><br/>"Still, if you disapprove..." he sighed, peeling off one of his gloves. He moved as a blur, so fast that the humans couldn't even see what happened. Dante held up his index finger, streaked with gore, as Oz began to gurgle, blood pouring out of a hole in his throat. He fell over forwards like a sack of bricks, his blood spreading in a pool. While many of the humans were stricken with silence, none, save perhaps Chloe, were truly surprised. After all, new blood banks only had to be brought in when old ones died, and Dante was usually the reason.<br/><br/>Then he was moving again, his gloved hand at Lolita's throat, slamming her against a wall with a crack of breaking plaster. His bloody finger waved in front of her face as he scowled. "Do not forget your place,<em>enforcer</em>," he roared into her face, "What gives you the right to question me!?"