((Sorry for the delay ladies and gents, 9 hour shift at work today.))
Rearm, recover, recuperate, Dreamer, one by one, sheathes her weapons, though her half Lavoid comrade isn't paying attention. He could feel Damion's eyes scanning him, his raw, muscular build, his powerhouse stance, Murasame almost felt obligated to pose for this scrawny new character who clearly looked like he was ready for war. Although he couldn't see it or feel it, Murasame knew this Damion fellow had a magical air about him. Maybe even that shotgun was magical or was socketed by gemstones. Mura can't help but glower down at him in return. The height difference only needed a few inches with Mura coming out the victor, all the same, he wouldn't back down from the warrior's judgmental stare.
It felt like a dare. It had to be a, "what are you going to do since I defiled Dreamer?" stare. It wasn't half an hour ago when Dreamer made mention of ********... With? Over? Someone by the name of Damion. Had to be him. Whatever this smooth talker had done he'd done quite the job of it. Mura grunted as Damion turned to head downstairs while Dreamer lead, Murasame picking up the rear, making a clear effort to restrain putting his boot to the back of Damion's skull. His namesake weapon clicks irritably against his belt from within its frog, it thunks heavily against each stair as its master descends.
"Hey, Dreamer." He says, "Someone's boom boxing outside for you, I think. He sounds pissed."
She responded as well as the Lavoid figured anyone would do in that situation: Vodka. Murasame retreats back to the counter and deposits his wicker hat upon his head, as he passes, he gives Blaze a knowing pat on the shoulder and a nod before wandering to the back room. Of course Dreamer wouldn't keep her fancy wine up front, the Lavoid withdraws his drink from its hiding place and returns to the front, clutching its neck in one powerful hand.
"Murasame, meet Damion." Dreamer says as she stares into the bottom of her empty shot glass. "You'll soon get to meet his boss. It looks like we're going to have company. He's not going to be very happy, considering it looks like I messed with an employee."
"Hi." Murasame returns curtly. He reaches over for Dreamer's shot glass; further inspection reveals she's slightly shaking, his visage is contorted into one of focus and intensity. He could plainly see nervousness and anxiety behind her eyes. "So, what do you do for work, Damion? Fast food? Corporate executive? Demon slayer? I mean," he pauses his sentence to fill his glass with his drink and upends it into his waiting mouth. Its bittersweet mixture floods his taste buds, he swallows, hands the glass back to Dreamer, and continues, "I mean, we," he points to Blaze, "just need to know if you're right for our Dreamer. If you're holding down a steady job or self medicating with a huge bag of weed every night, man's got to have priorities. Am I right?"
The yelling outside is getting louder and angrier. Murasame's deep, intense brown eyes lock onto Damion's and wait for his response. It'll only be a matter of time before the voice it belongs to breaks down the door or the entire front side of the structure. The burly half Lavoid rests his back against the wall and folds his arms, his own smug expression plastered across his face.
