·ebon virus of hell halts, haunched over, as demented optics close. "you want me not," is replied toward the ghostly ashen before straightening powerful bod. razor tilded flints edge the masculine to full length and height, standing erect. arched trends snap hatefully 'gainst muscled anatomy, regal visage lowering slightly toward weither height. Orbicals slide open, side watching the femme intensely. "find another, diamond, for blood is my taste, and i do not wish for yours to coat my throat." steed remains still, 'waiting others first movements. will force have to win out once more? sharp, malicious growl is released lowly, coldness creeping deeper, fogging the bitter mind into an almost unpenetratible cloud. "leave me."·