Here was beauty without conscience or reason. The male was a form of insanity unique to Heaven but more suited to Hell.
"How can you stand to be near them all the time?" a rich, cultured voice asked. The polite tone and condescenion were quite real.
Sky blue eyes carefully studied the glorious one who graced Purgatory. Stefan smirked faintly and took another long drink of his usual bourbon. "I'll take them over you any day. They have a soul."
"I did not come here for you to insult me," Stefan's tablemate responded with a narrowing of his eyes. Golden blonde hair swirled around his shoulders at the move and gleamed vividly in the flashing lights of the club.
"No, you came here to make a deal. I don't make deals with you, Michael. You know this," Stefan stated flatly. His politely indifferent smile never wavered nor did his even tone.
The drumming of his fingers stopped and Michael lightly caressed the handle of a concealed weapon riding low along his hip. "I could kill you."
"You've been saying that for centuries," Stefan answered tightly.
"I mean it this time," Michael responded.
"Is this another if you can't have me then no one shall statement? I'm tired of it," Stefan growled softly. His eyes flared for a moment, changing to a dark blue ran through with silver stars. Michael started and blinked, showing the first hint of true surprise.
"No shit. Now would you care to tell me why you actually tried a quiet approach? It's unlike you," Stefan asked. He had his suspicions why Michael had came slinking into Purgatory and left a note with the bartender. The phone call had shocked him enough to come down from his office early. Seeing Michael in his bar was enough of a surprise that he'd set aside his suspicion to satisfy his curiousity. However, Stefan's wariness was alive and well.
"The walls have ears here. Some things should be discussed in private," Michael said softly. Stefan stiffened visibly and shook his head vigorously. He frowned and waited several moments before saying anything at all.
"You want something and it isn't my body this time," Stefan mused.
"What ever makes you think I want your body? I want your death. Your blood. Your power, however feeble and poor it might be. I'll take your body after its been cleaved in two by my sword and is swinging from the gates," Michael offered conversationally.
"You never change, Micahel."
"Nor do you, Hael."
Stefan went back to his drink and ignored his fellow angel for the time being. Waiting patiently, they both seemed content to stew and fidget in their own private thoughts. Briefly wondering where Bastian was, Stefan had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Another fifteen minutes and some odd change passed before he rose from the table.
"Come. My office is this way. We can talk there in privacy," Stefan remarked. He headed up the stairs and didn't even look behind him. He could feel eyes on the back of his body, studying and weighing him. Micheal never had been subtle. Sighing inwardly, he doubted this would end well. The fact he wanted to rend the angel limb from limb was not improving his mood in the least. The only thing stopping him from going after Michael physically was Stefan's uncertainty if Micahel had brought back up or was alone.
Opening his office door, Stefan gestured for Michael to enter before him. Oh yes, this night was just lookign terrific.