The corners of her mouth stretched as Azazel conveniently went deaf for the approximately 3.5 seconds of his first rebuttal, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "What you've built here ––" she spat out, glaring at him before she bit her tongue. She'd stopped just before she launched into a monologue about how he'd left her back in Portugal. She could talk all she wanted but in the end, she knew it was her actions that directly drove him out to seek somewhere else for comfort .... someone else. It was her fault, and there was a board at her back keeping her stiff at that realization.

What's more, she could sense his concern for her slipping slowly out of her grasp. Panic was bubbling just beneath the surface, but she pushed it down to fix her mask of anger into one of placid acceptance. So, Ishmael liked being right - he liked being in control? Let him fucking think so, then. The vampire forced her shoulders to relax from their haunched position. "And what, did you have in mind, my dear?" She said, her head cocked to one side inquisitively.