Azrael had stumbled a little away in a corner, having dropped the glass of bourbon he had been drinking at. He wanted to find his husband. But he was elsewhere. Something didn’t feel right, and Azrael let out a growl of frustration. He held the wall, his eyes went blurry and his head spun. He shook it. Something was happening to the large wolf man, and he didn’t know what. All of a sudden...the spinning stopped. Azrael panted and turned around. Not knowing, his regularly blood red eyes had softened in glow, and temporarily turned to their former brown hues. His throat felt dry, and his forehead had some sweat on it, which he wiped away. His vision though...it was strange. It was almost as if there was a rosy tint in his sight. Someone was approaching and checking on him, and his vision slowly cleared, eyes locking with the individual. Upon looking at him, he smiled. Not his usual charismatic smirk or his smug grin. But it was soft...and caring. His heart was beating a mile a minute just looking at the individual. He felt...giddy, and this was nothing like his usual self but it was as if Azrael couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry,” he said, a gentle tone in his voice, “I must’ve had too much to drink. I...sorry. You look...you look so stunning tonight. You’re taking my breath away. I’ve never noticed how....beautiful your eyes are.” Azrael moved closer to the other. “I feel like...this connection’s awakened. Don’t you feel it too? Feel my heart...it’s beating for you.” He took the other’s hand and placed it on his chest, never once unlocking their eyes. “I think I’m in love with you...”

A steady supply of food, water, and a place to sleep were all part of the reason why he’d surrendered himself to Linvale - he was safer here, within the city, than he was outside of it. At least, here, he had a roof over his head and the ability to sleep with both eyes shut. The pet thing was new, going by a number as opposed to his name was new, but Samuel knew that he could adjust. He was moldable, he could fit into this life as easily as he fit into his nomadic lifestyle for the past few years. He had just finished his morning workout - something he’d picked up doing when he was living nomadically - when he saw someone passing by his cell. He looked up, wiping some sweat from the back of his neck as he greeted them with a slightly rough voice from disuse. “Good morning...”

He tried to slid a finger under the collar, and grimaced as its tightness. “If it were still metaphorical, I’d tell you I’d sell my soul to the devil to keep up with my 23-year old self.” 

Marcus was terribly bored. He sat at a bar with a beer and a frown. “What’s a person got to do to get some play around here?” He muttered to himself. He supposed he could take another trip to the cells. Find a pretty little thing to take home with him for the night. But that took work and he was feeling very lazy tonight. He wanted the fun to just come and find him. When someone came and sat with him he smirked. “Well hello there....fancy a night of canoodling?” 

it’s not long before he spots a suitable target. their smell had risen above the others with flying colors, making a home in his senses. one thing was clear; he had to have them. “you’re not really roaming around here alone, are you?” there’s a strange, slow smile blooming between bearded laugh lines, gaze burning   —  all ridden with less than compassionate intent. a few steps closer, hands interlocked neatly behind his back, “..best to stay close, don’t you think?”