Cazador stood before you, listening to the way you spoke to him.

It had been… many centuries since anyone had dared to speak to him like this.

But here you were, cussing him out like he was a common peasant. Like he was lower than scum. He wasn’t even sure that he’d heard a few of the words that you’d used to describe him, and they made his lip draw back in a snarl.

“You’ve got a very colourful vocabulary. Are you done?” He asked.