Ava had dined on Fae blood that evening, so it was no trouble to leave her apartment before the sun was fully down and suffer none of the usual draining sensations - particularly when her intended destination was within the same high-rise complex. She'd been pleased to receive the invitation from Zale; she liked him, inasmuch as Ava ever truly liked anyone (in a genuine sense, that is, beyond what they could provide for her) and their conversations were never dull, much in the same way she'd enjoyed speaking to Seth during their rare visits. The Ophanim could be so truly entertaining.
What was not entertaining, however, was this particular Ophanim's habitual references to her stature. If Ava could be said to be sensitive about anything, it was the child's body in which she was eternally stuck. She had no trouble hearing him through the door; she would have heard him even if he'd been speaking normally. He couldn't see her scowl through the door, but it was there. "I've ripped out men's throats for less, my darling little peacock," she said sweetly. That, in reference to his personality more so than his chiaroscuro wings. "Now, kindly open the door or I shall kick it down."