Shit but she was hungry. Ishmael may have convinced her to start feeding off animals now, but God, temptation was cruel. Why she even thought about hanging out in these kinds of places where humans hung about was beyond her. Perhaps it was because she was bored out of her mind, these days. Nothing had really happened since they'd last talked. Perhaps she'd sought comfort in the death of a few people here and there, but none of them were at her hand, so waiting until they were good and buried only to just dig them up again was so tacky.

In a rush of frustration, Azazel had flopped herself unceremoniously into a bed of flowers, closing her eyes and listening to her own fury race through her mind. Soon it was close to dusk and she hadn't moved an inch in perhaps a few hours. What was the use of living if she felt so weak?

It was just when she was about to let out a growl of frustration that she heard the crunch of a foot nearby. Eyes still closed and not the least bit in the mood to attack anything, she ground out, "You step on me you die."