"If I wanted your head, you never would have seen me." The vampire never took his golden eyes off her as he moved toward the desk. As much as hearing this reassured her of her present safety, it was simultaneously irritating and insulting. This jackass had some nerve underestimating her like that, daring to imply that she couldn't defend herself. How sweet it would be to see that flashy black mane of his dangling from a pike. 

A white fairly clawed finger casually lifted the pin of the recordplayer, ending the pleasant jazz that had been filling up the background. The void of silence left behind added a slam of stark realism to the present moment, a reminder that Elle was in all actuality, in real danger. "Don't take me for a houseguest, Miss Woodson. I broke into your abode and slaughtered your compatriots, and I might still kill you." He withdrew his hand to his side, leaving the record spinning silently. The swords were only centimeters away from the fiend's grasp. They weren't exactly blessed oak stakes, but a strike to the heart or decapitation would still be lethal to a vampire. At least, having to deal with them would hurt like a bitch. Nonetheless, the vampire clearly wasn't going to sit down. ...the rude motherfucker didn't even take off his hat. 

"I don't care that you kill your prey, or roam where you wish, or feign superiority over your infantile kindred, but I do care that you incite the ire of our distant cousins, the werewolves." Mithias curled back his lips and seethed his words through his nearly-clenched teeth in emphasis. "You.. have... NO IDEA... of their capacity for revenge. The ancient packs of the North could overtake this entire hemisphere." He tried to make her understand the severity of their situation. Killing other immortals wasn't really his thing, not anymore, but if their ambitions blinded them to reason, then he'd have to. "These whelps you murder and play with in the streets of the human city are mere shadows to their forefathers. You..."

A sharp, yet beautiful, crisp bell cracked into the peaceful air that had just been carrying the vampire's male voice. An old-style porcelain telephone that had taken up the corner of Miss Woodson's desk began to ring its dutiful song... Coils and wires suddenly sprang out as the bells clamored a death-scream. Two halves of the former phone bounced off the desktop and fell to the floor, permanently quieted.

Seeing a blade in his right hand, Elle realized she didn't even see Mithias move before the phone was destroyed. Quickly, he had his eyes back on her. Mithias straightened, and he realized, it was time for him to leave. 

"Heed my warning, coven leader, or you will learn my name." Not really having much more to add, or to destroy, Mithias turned around and headed out the office door and to a fire escape. He just... walked off. No flirting, no charisma, no calling card. Fucking self-righteous oldbloods, if that's even what he was. Couldn't he just schedule an appointment like everybody else? Certainly he lived around here. He could be followed, found out for what he was, and given a little taste of hell. Outdated creeps like him needed to die out already.