Lunch

As Isabella and Sarah entered the restaurant, they walked side by side, while Azazel followed closely behind. Isabella noticed the gaze of some ladies directed at Azazel, blowing kisses and winking at him. Irritation sparked within her, questioning why Azazel seemed to enjoy the attention from random strangers when he often treated her with indifference or picked fights. Determined to distance herself from the situation, Isabella quickened her pace, tugging Sarah along with her.

They reached the entrance of the restaurant before Azazel, giving Isabella a momentary relief from the bewildering encounters outside. Shortly after, Azazel joined them inside, his eyes scanning the room as he took in the ambiance. Isabella caught his smile, directed at no one in particular, and a twinge of frustration gnawed at her. Nevertheless, she tried to suppress her emotions, hoping for a pleasant meal together.

As they settled into their seats, a waiter approached their table with menus in hand. Isabella and Sarah perused the menu, selecting their desired meals. Isabella chose a fresh and vibrant salad with grilled chicken, accompanied by a side of roasted vegetables. Sarah opted for a hearty pasta dish, rich with creamy sauce and sprinkled with Parmesan cheese.

The waiter turned to Azazel, ready to take his order. Azazel, unfamiliar with mortal cuisine, hesitated. Sensing an opportunity for playful revenge, Isabella smiled mischievously. "I'll order for him," she said, unable to resist the chance to inject some spice into the situation. With a gleam in her eyes, she requested a dish known for its fiery flavor—a sizzling plate of spicy buffalo chicken wings accompanied by a tangy dipping sauce. Isabella knew well that Azazel's immortal taste buds were not accustomed to mortal sensations.

The waiter jotted down the orders and excused himself to relay them to the kitchen. Isabella couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, curious to witness Azazel's reaction to the unexpected spiciness that awaited him.

As they waited for their food to arrive, conversation flowed between Isabella and Sarah, their laughter filling the air. Azazel, seemingly lost in his thoughts, remained silent. Isabella glanced at him, unsure of his mood. She pondered whether the spicy dish she had ordered would exacerbate his already unpredictable demeanor.

Eventually, the waiter returned, skillfully balancing plates of delectable dishes. Isabella's salad was a colorful array of fresh greens, juicy grilled chicken, and a tangy vinaigrette drizzled delicately over the top. Sarah's pasta arrived, its aroma tantalizing and mouthwatering.

Then came Azazel's plate—a sizzling platter filled with fiery buffalo chicken wings, radiating heat and spice. Isabella's eyes met Azazel's, a mischievous glimmer dancing between them. She couldn't help but offer a playful smile, anticipating his reaction.

She had intentionally ordered a fiery and spicy meal, hoping to teach him a lesson for his occasional rudeness. However, to her surprise, Azazel's expression transformed into one of intrigue and anticipation as the plate was placed in front of him.

The tantalizing aroma of the dish filled the air, and Azazel's green eyes sparkled with curiosity. He picked up his cutlery and took a tentative bite, his taste buds immediately ignited by the explosion of flavors. The spiciness seemed to awaken his senses, and a faint smile danced on his lips.

Isabella observed him with a mix of surprise and amusement. She had anticipated him struggling with the heat, but instead, he appeared to relish every fiery bite. The intensity of the flavors seemed to match the intensity of his nature, and she found herself unable to tear her gaze away from his enchanting presence.

As the trio finished their meal, Sarah turned her attention to Azazel, expressing her curiosity about his background. "Tell me more about yourself," she urged, her eyes filled with genuine interest. Azazel began to speak, "I'm the first son, and my father banished me from..." but before he could complete his sentence, Isabella interjected, her voice eager to provide additional context. "He means to say he was disowned by his father," Isabella clarified, offering a subtle alteration to Azazel's words.

Sarah's gaze shifted between Azazel and Isabella, sensing an unspoken tension in the air. She was intrigued by the sudden interruption and the way Isabella seemed determined to control the narrative. Eager for more details, Sarah pressed on, asking Azazel directly, "Why were you disowned?"

Azazel's face remained impassive, his features revealing little emotion. He prepared to respond, but once again, Isabella interjected, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "He was young and naive, more like a prodigal son," Isabella interjected, her laughter breaking the tension in the room. Sarah's grin widened, as she realized the parallels between Azazel's past and her own situation.

"You're not alone then," Sarah confessed, her eyes meeting Azazel's. "I'm the black sheep of my family, constantly feeling like no one cares about me." The shared vulnerability between Sarah and Azazel created a fleeting bond, an understanding of the pain that can come from feeling disconnected and unwanted.

As the conversation continued, Sarah's curiosity got the better of her, and she directed her attention toward Azazel. She looked at him expectantly, awaiting his response to her earlier question. But to her surprise, Azazel simply glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze elsewhere, as if dismissing her presence entirely.

Sarah, taken aback by his indifference, furrowed her brows and muttered under her breath, "What a weirdo." Isabella couldn't help but stifle a laugh at Sarah's remark, finding the situation amusing and the tension palpable.

The sound of Isabella's laughter echoed through the restaurant, catching the attention of the other patrons. Some cast curious glances in their direction, wondering what had sparked such a reaction. Isabella, trying to regain her composure, held her hand over her mouth and tried to suppress her laughter.

Meanwhile, Azazel remained seated, his expression stoic and unmoving. He seemed unaffected by the commotion around him, his attention fixed solely on his inner thoughts and frustrations. The conversations with mortals had wearied him, and his desire to break the curse and regain his powers grew more urgent with each passing day.

With an air of annoyance, he shifted his gaze toward Isabella, his eyes piercing through her laughter. "You are pushing your luck, Isabella," he retorted, his voice laced with a mixture of frustration and determination. "Let's leave here so you can get back to your research."

Sarah, who had been trying to piece the puzzle together, chimed in, her confusion evident. "What research are you talking about?" she asked, hoping for some clarity. Isabella hesitated for a moment, glancing between Sarah and Azazel, unsure of how much she should reveal.

Before Isabella could respond, Azazel snapped at her, his patience wearing thin. "It's none of your business," he snapped, his voice sharp and commanding. "Don't push me." With those words, he abruptly stood up from his seat and walked away, leaving Isabella and Sarah stunned and speechless.

Sarah looked at Isabella, searching for answers in her eyes. Isabella shook her head slightly, indicating her own confusion and bewilderment at Azazel's sudden change in mood. "I have no idea," Isabella replied softly, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and frustration. Realizing that further discussion in the restaurant would lead them nowhere, they both rose from their seats and made their way toward the exit, their destination now the Library Store.