The party is beautiful, certainly, albeit very, very boring. It's always the same. Alcohol, fancy dresses, nice suits, dull music. Azazel has lived a life spanning centuries, and yet he cannot recall a more dreadful party. It's all rich aristocrats with too much money on their hands. Women and men discussing the latest in stocks or their newest house purchase. None of it interests him.

Azazel brushes past a few party-goers, their eyes flickering towards him as he passes. He doesn't bother to hide his appearance, though he certainly could. Why hide? He's played that card before. He's tired of concealing his skin, his tail, his fangs. Besides, it provides extra incentive for them to get the Hell out of his way. Everybody around here recognizes him enough to know he's dangerous. Bad news. The Devil in disguise. Or in plain sight, rather.

Azazel makes it to the balcony, the slow waltz music muffled as the late night breeze ruffles his slicked back hair. He's come out here to escape, and possibly teleport somewhere more exciting, but that's when he spots her. Out here. All alone. Poor thing. Poor, vulnerable thing. A cunning, devious, downright devilish thought pierces his mind before he can stop it. She's alone...but not for long. What better company than Azazel himself?

A grin forms on Azazel's lips as he meets her gaze. "Evening," he says, voice smooth and enticing. He steps closer until he's almost touching her, leaning against the railing of the balcony. His tail flicks behind him. "I was unaware anyone else was out here. Apologies, my lady."

He reaches out, clutching her hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. "Allow me to introduce myself. Azazel, at your service, my dear."

He rubs her hand for a moment before letting it go. "I see no wedding ring," he notes, always perceptive and never subtle. He cocks his head, as though in pity. "Surely, a beautiful woman like yourself isn't still alone in this world..."

His grin widens a bit, fangs visible beneath his lips.