[Cold's free hand drops near his leg where the handle of his gun is waiting. But he's surprised to see the wad of bills easily being handed to him without even a second thought. Who just hands a stranger--who just about broke in, helped himself to his liquor and fell asleep in his bed AND threatened him if he called the police-- a wad of what looks like thousands of dollars, FOR NO REAL REASON?? It kind of takes the fun out of robbing someone really. At first he's in too much disbelief not to take the bills when they're handed to him. He tilts his head, brushing his thumb through them to have a quick guesstimate at how much is there before just reaching over to set the money on the table, sliding it back to him.]

I don't do hand outs. I'm not that desperate.

[Though when the Devil leans back and spreads out invitingly over his corner of the couch he can feel himself start salivating. His tongue flicks over dry lips in a quick attempt to drag his focus back, but his eyes can't help but roam. The invitation is tempting. Almost too tempting and those once cold blues hold a hungry heat.]

Everything. [He mutters with a rasp of arousal before he catches himself once more, victim to that damn potent influence.]

I'm drawn to you, as much as that frustrates me. What are you doing to me?