When Mictain woke up, Raphael was away. His first reaction was disappointment. Then, however, his demonic instincts woke up as well, easily overpowering the loving part of him that was flickering in sadness at Raphael's departure. How that little slut dared! Raphael had been the one to suggest that they should have sex. He could at least have the guts not to sneak away afterwards.

Claws extending, Mictain rose and sliced at the bed, tearing the sheets. It didn't take away his anger -- at the moment he quite wished it had been Raphael under his claws -- but it was the best he could have right now. Silently fuming, he clad himself, starting to quickly walk towards his own room.

A thought rose to his mind, however, and he smirked, a fang flashing briefly. He had managed two millennia with only himself to "play with"; he could manage again, especially now that he had some real memories to add to his fantasies. Raphael, he suspected, would not stand as long. Eventually he would have the healer come to him -- and when he did, he would make him pay.