HELL WON'T HAVE ME

The imp moves, closer to him- her ivory fur barely brushing the tips of his own ebony hues- or so he thinks he feels. She peers over his shoulder, as his smoldering gaze stares into the reflecting liquid. He blinks, in the aftermath of his words- the quiet rumble that seems to echo around them like the calls of war. He tosses her own question back to her, and waits- she speaks, and his ears flick back towards her- taking in her words. She claims to see ambition, and relentless determination in herself. Something about the severity of her tone- does not make him doubt that she does, indeed see these things. He chuckles though, turning his head now, his smoldering gaze seeking her out. The chuckle that reverberates through his body is an odd, choking sound- something he's not overly familiar with expressing.

He watches her move around him, his eyes following her movements lazily, but with the careful intensity of a soldier. He blinks at her words "Potential for..?"He trails off, his baritone words leaving the question hanging. She asks of his name, and he gives her a long look- his molten gaze lingering on her impish physique. "I've gone by many names, little imp, but Joker- is my most prominent." He falls silent for a moment, before claiming the tide of the conversation with is own question. "What do they call you? What names are screamed by the families of your victims?"His voice is nearly a purr, the tones rough, as he gazes at her with curiosity.