Swinging his legs over the edge of the building, then sliding over it, twisting his body to hang onto the rooftop by his fingertips, Samael carefully positioned himself above a set of windows, one on the first floor and one on the ground floor. He drops, his feet landing on the windowledge of the second storey window, his fingertips gripping the edge, before he leans back again, dropping to the first storey window, then onto the ground silently.

Samael walked quickly, his soft-soled boots making no sound on the ground with each step, the rustle of his clothes covered by the shouting voices in the distance over the commotion the fire was causing. He waits until he is behind the girl before drawing one of his blades with a soft creak of metal scratching over metal, and touching the tip to her back. "Do not move. Do not try to run again. I promise you, I can throw this blade with more accuracy than you could imagine, and faster than you could blink. I do not care if you do not believe me, I expect you to not be stupid enough to give me the chance to prove it." He twists the knife slightly, using it to poke her as if to prove a point. "There is a warehouse four streets west and a little south of here. You will walk there, in front of me. You will not feel the knife, and you will not see the knife, but know that I have it. If we see anyone, you will walk normally, keep your head down, and say nothing. Am I understood?"