What does he think he is doing?
Azrael's chuckles rise into hysterics as we all stare at him, dumbfounded and quite unable to comprehend what exactly is so funny about the whole situation. But the mad, malicious spark in his eyes tells me that it is nothing good. Nothing ever is, coming from him.
And here I thought I had him, that everything was going to plan, that everything was under control- Ha! What wishful thinking that was. I guess nothing is ever so simple, somehow I always end up in a convoluted mess of bullshit.
When Azrael's laughs have finally died, a chilling silence is left in the room, stagnant in the rotting air that swamps us with the lingering smell of decay. For a minute, he chokes a little, blood coughing up from his lungs as he spits it onto the floor without another glance.
