[ it says a great deal that Abel almost fails to recognize the fact that the tender has come to their little out-of-the-way table; his attentions remain attached to Makoto even as the demon offers an all too easy smile, sociable and pleasant, to the Venerian. it comes to him with grace, a poise, that speaks to the familiarity behind this routine.

...Abel trips his way into a smile of his own belatedly as he's prompted for his choice, quickly and distractedly ordering whatever ale is on tap -- he isn't an especially picky man, and nor does he have much interest in the way of drinking, truth be told. it is a means to an end, a social endeavor, a pass time that brings people together. he had wanted an excuse to meet with Makoto -- and he'd gotten one. it served its purpose.

the man is forgotten before he can even fully retreat back behind the bar to see to fulfilling their orders; Abel once more has eyes for the demon and the demon alone. it's obvious that Makoto's answer to his prompting has left him... unsettled. uneasy. concerned, the sort that creases at one's brow and leaves something pinched in the eye. ]

The 'why'... it's important to me.

[ 'to me.' because he had not come here for his allies, nor would he be telling a soul of this meeting unless things should go terribly and horribly awry. he does not anticipate it to. it shouldn't; the priest is aware he can be a fool, but... to miscalculate that badly would be sincerely deplorable. ]

There is a difference between taking a life out of anger or hatred, or out of fear. There's a difference between defending yourself and putting one out of their misery, as well. It doesn't change the end result, and it won't change the inevitable consequences, but... it still matters, Mr. M. It does.

[ does Makoto believe otherwise...? ]