Ordinary life changes its definition over the course of time for any given individual. Prior to age ten, my daily routine included the five finger discount, home-made fireworks, and more sand than any individual should ever have encountered over the course of their entirety. Shortly after that, ordinary life became far too western and American and involved copious amounts of English, Angelina Jolie, and driving on the wrong side of the road. But now? Ordinary life had changed and evolved from the amalgam of my past into something that had evoked an irritated response from the universe. Only that would explain why Azrael had seen it fit to dump a compulsive, novice-level hunter on the stoop of Arsenaal. The man continued some kind of blabbering about something that had yet to register as important in my mind, rendering me senselessly void of emotion as I watched him talk.

One sheep, two sheep...

Counting sheep was not exactly a good excuse for why I remained staring blankly at the hunter after he made a 'smart' remark about organic cotton shopping bags. There were no mental words or conversations that I could host that might offer me enough distraction that I might be able to hide my boredom; let's get something straight. I might be able to play poker better than most, but when it comes to the reality of emotions? I have no need to hide them, especially when I don't have cards in my hand. My expression morphed from something reminiscent of blank and blind to a spasm of diluted surprise. Did he honestly think I was giving him a sales pitch that only some kind of vegan, hippy might have offered? Regardless of if I actually had any organic cotton shopping bags or not, whatever kind of amusement I had with the situation and customer at hand fizzled in a very anticlimactic way courtesy of the quip and wary look offered as a compliment behind his words.

In a fairly fluid fashion did I roll my eyes in kind to his implied notion that a computer might be difficult for me to manage. I had little to no faith in Azrael's explanation and description of my abilities, why should I? The man was far more likely to equate me with a tadpole that had a rock fall on it as soon as it's tail sprouted than a veritable warlock with numerous powers. The outline of my Shadow twitched at this thought, it's fingers growing in length and mobility as my irritation brewed stronger. The Shadow stretched it's long arms as if waking up from some kind of unamused slumber, as if shadows actually slept, before it turned to focus on the hunter near it. As the hunter was well within the reach of the Shadow's specter-like arms, it languidly caressed the man's shoulder in order to procure some of the attention for itself. Blithely able to disregard the Shadow, I turned my gaze to the fascinating view of my fingers as they tapped against the mahogany of the countertop they were placed upon until the low hum of the hunter's words were minutely more interesting.

He hacked the Council's data?

With a brow rising unbidden from it's previously emotionless position, I accidentally offered the man an opportunity to realize he had my attention. Hacking, demolition, criminal, illegal... I don't know why, but the sound of those words and their innumerous synonyms get my blood boiling in the best way. While I might have been infinitely more excited if he wanted me to actually demolish some physical structures, the intangible, virtual kind were a close second. A wave of my hand was all that signaled I was finished listening to him babble â€" okay, that's not true. The obvious and unfortunately audible interruption I offered him clearly spoke volumes more than I thought he was.

"And I thought Azrael rambled..."

I trailed off as quickly as I'd interrupted him, blinking back the moderate surprise that I even said anything. With what might have seemed like a shrug, I agreed that no, he hadn't lied. There was a part of me that wanted to invite my newfound Hunter liaison, Azrael, to join us on our naturally illegal venture in order to test the artifact I'd created for him to see if it would help him lie in kind with us. And then again, there was no way I needed to fuel the fire I had kindled on my own bounty. So instead of anything rash and out of character (ha, let's be real, rash... out of character? Pfft.) I allowed the hunter to continue holding my attention as I began quietly packing my bag. When his words teetered into fashion territory, my eyebrows rose once more and my eyes narrowed, falling with weight on him.

"Vintage is fantastic. Don't knock a good thing."

With my back turned to him as I gathered whatever it was I wanted to take to his headquarters or whatever, I missed what was the unfortunately pleasing unease that spread over his features like a virus when the chains touched his skin. Surely the chains would make his skin crawl as if I'd dumped him in a vat of pig-fat, an idea that had crossed my mind seconds after the chains had been unleashed. But, all things in good time; I had a good gut feeling that the man would probably give me another reason to terrify him, and by all means, who am I to pass up a free opportunity like that?

"...Did you see the inside of that shop? Do you really think I need to pack any weapon to do some damage?" My words were emphasized with a slow, wry grin that spread over my lips and to my eyes like wildfire. He offered me the tinder, why not light the fuse? At his description of his "companion", I felt myself shake my head and roll my eyes. There were very few weapons I wasn't accustomed to, very few parts of the city I didn't have 'friends' in, and very few women that I wouldn't be able to extinguish. So with an even more maleficent smile, I nodded like I might have agreed to keeping my artillery in the shop, with other ideas clearly brewing as I made no move to hide the ill-fated humor in my eyes.

When the exquisite door was opened and a passage into his home available, I sauntered in as if it was a place of comfort that I had visited many times. Instead of acquiescing to his request of losing my shoes, though, I threw him an irrelevant stare that told him I had no intention of taking my shoes off, namely because they were probably as expensive as his own and seriously... How much trust can you place in a man who is probably a sworn enemy, who wants you to do some dirty work for him... with your nice shoes? Feet still clad in my shoes, I followed him into the kitchen where I paused, direct center of the room, to test the acoustics with a giant sneeze.
"God bless me. I must be allergic to your exceedingly compulsiveness."
With a disturbingly polite smile did I nod to his request for the iron and silver combination, already beginning the processes all the while my eyes were trained on him and seemingly exerting no effort to make the sheets, regardless of the fact they were already finished by the time I'd sat down quietly.

"You have some explaining to do, I think."