Ahven could feel the human half of his mind being drawn to agree with the words of the beast before him, could feel the subtle cadence of acceptance being drummed into his psyche by the words and the power they held. In the end, it mattered little. The dark parts of his mind, the parts where his power lived and where the most vile cravings of his darker half spawned, those parts rejected the alluring cadence of the words and their power. Recoiled and drove themselves against the corrupting influence in a battle that was over before it could even truly begin. Such was the result when the man that loved reason and beauty and life in him was forced to wage a never ending war with the demon that craved death and destruction and chaos. Neither side was willing to give ground, and so the intruder was cast out viciously by both. 

"Tell me, beast, do your parlor tricks usually work on your fellows?"

As he stood awaiting the response, he allowed a fraction of his power to begin bleeding into the pistol that he gripped, replenishing the energy expended in his first attack.