He stares hard at the devil because it would be more difficult to look at Enver again and maintain as much control as he has. Raphael sees his anger as entertainment, and that's exactly what he wants. That he has no idea of the depths of hatred that exist within the paladin at this moment in time, it's all down to the control the half-drow exerts, a metaphorical fist kept tight around that blazing hot ire that struggles to get loose.

It seems as though he's contemplating those words, a few moments ticking by before he seems to come back to himself.

By now, there a circle of metal clinging around one of Enver's fingers. And he is aware of that with a simple confirmation silent to all but those with tadpoles.

"Did you really think you would dangle something precious in front of me and I would come running without a plan of my own?" His expression switches, a red haze starting to descend on his awareness, and the air grows thicker.

Slowly he pulls the adamantine blade free of its scabbard, nostrils flared and lips starting to tug into a smile riddled with violence. His blood is singing for it, but it's all his own desire. All his own want to make this devil pay for all he has wrought upon somebody he remembers enough of now. Somebody he cares for deeply.

"Did you really think I would let you darken his doorway again after this?"