As the spit hit her, Azazel gazed at the woman frankly as if chiding a pouting infant. "Well, that's not very ladylike, is it?" she admonished as she forced the other woman down to kneel in front. "Fine then, so be it." she said. "For that remarkable display of maturity, you-" she shook the chaperone, "shan't get any last words then." The vampire bared her teeth and proceeded to rip a gash into the chaperone's neck.

The taste and smell of blood flooded her senses, so much so that her eyes rolled back slightly as she drank. It was akin to when she would drink a cold glass of water on a hot summer's day, or a hot cup of tea on a cold winter's night. The front of her cloak was drenched in blood - no matter, the whelp had already ruined it for her. She shoved the chaperone aside once she'd completed, and turned to stare at the witch. She raised a finger to her smirking lips, shushing her. "Now that wasn't very nice, was it?" she questioned, her voice soft and syrupy.

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