The were-King's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly at the mention of the deviant's mind - that chaotic, peculiar, brilliant mind. He had not considered Frost's abilities to spy between that skull and into the very heart of any man's soul. It was not Frost's assurance that Tobias cared for more than just his mate or the implication therewithin that so captured his attention. No, it was that mention of that ability he had ignorant of entirely. Was it a gift to read minds? Likely. Still, perhaps that capability made him all the better of a choice to pit against Risque when the were-King himself would fall. He would be the one soul capable of anticipating her next move, the one being able to thwart her in her ravenous attempts to extract revenge on all he held dear. This was, perhaps, an inevitable move upon his part, as much as he hated to admit it. He detested that realization that had so dawned on him in that singular moment and yet, it was something he was so incredibly sure of. Tetradore had never truly had the ability to beat Frost. Nadya had thrown her lot in with the stronger pack. She had won. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but Frost was perhaps equally as capable of forcing him to bend the knee as Risque's own control of him. Maybe one day, Nadya would have her wish of dethroning Tetradore t live amongst Frost's ranks - if he survived his own mistress first. It was a dismal thought, that feeling of defeat and yet, in that same practiced manner, the man seemed wholly apathetic to life at large.

A soft grunt left his lips in response to that rather pointed stare he was given in that moment and yet, he said little of Tobias' own nature. After all, though he knew well of the boy's loyalty, he too had faith in the man's ability to continue that life without him, if only for Raven's sake. Rather, he let that conversation shift to inquiries of his own decision within choosing Frost as his heir and yet, the man purposefully chose not to voice that sudden epiphany, instead simply agreeing with both of those possibilities that Frost had presented him with. That amusement within the steed was quite clear in that moment, fleeting though it was as those questions led to far more troublesome topics. It was with a soft breath of air that Tetradore slouched further against the hood of that vehicle, the man choosing not to hide his current predicament if only for the knowledge that such information could provide vital in the inevitable event of his own death. He glanced upwards at that snort that left Frost's nose and yet, he could hardly blame the man for that discontent. As it were, there were far too many options. There were far too many ways in which she could hit him and far too many people she could destroy to get to him. The odds were always stacked against him, in whatever challenge he seemed to take. God, he needed way more alcohol for this conversation.

Even despite that clear disappointment Frost held within his ability to provide answers, the man was altogether happy to provide those solutions to his own pack mates. Those arrangements he'd made for his Beta and his mate were easy enough, that wish for his Vector apparently accepted with the same sort of ease and yet, it was the mention of Calliel that brought some sort of emotion to Frost's features. He hardly expected that word of warning he was offered in turn and yet, Tetradore was willing enough to take it into stride in the same fashion Frost too had accepted all he had cast upon the man. He offered the fellow with a firm nodd in understanding, that utterance altogether soft, "Thank you, for letting me know." He was, at the very least, capable of showing that courteous appreciation when it was so deserved. In the wake of that discussion of his own pack, a certain sort of silence seemed to settle between them, one that was broken only by steed's equally as unexpected words. It was clear, in that moment, that the man was hardly talking of that situation in which Tetradore had endured but, rather, one of his own survival. He understood, in that moment, the fellow before him just as Frost had quite clearly understood his own tale, even if he had not voiced it before.

It was with some level of care that caused Tetradore to warn the man at his side to take particular care when telling his sibling that same story. He hardly wished upon Frost the same cold shoulder or lack of understanding that he was presented with. Those words of explanation Frost offered him in return, however, prompted little in the way of a reaction from the man. After all, it was hardly his place to speak any further of his sibling with her significant other. Their relationship was their own and he had little intention of invading it or making any sort of effort to put a wedge between her. Nadya had chosen and Tetradore was willing to respect that. Rather, it was with that newfound understanding that Tetradore made some effort to comfort his companion, providing the man with a good natured shove of his shoulder with the assurances that, at the very least, Frost was no longer alone in those efforts to throw off whomever had committed such crimes against him in his own life. After all, Tetradore was certainly capable of wielding that fear with a certain level of deftness. Though it hardly helped him against Risque or Frost, perhaps it might provide Frost with some assistance against his own nightmare.

It was that mention of alcohol, however, that caused his own attention to drift down towards the near empty carton at their feet. Although he could easily gulp down another bottle, he suspected it would hardly provide either of them with the relief they so desired. It was that, however, that prompted him to offer to fetch more of the substance. That agreement was gratefully taken up on and yet, before Tetradore could even make an effort to fetch that liquor, he found himself pausing at that rather abrupt summary of his own life. That sudden outstretched hand caused his eyebrow to raise ever so slightly and yet, Tetradore had no intention of turning down such a clear gesture of peace. After all, this was what everyone wanted. This very agreement between the packs was the best he could do to keep everyone happy and safe. They might not be so keen to accept that comradery between packs, hell, he was certain some of his own members might hate him for making such a deal and yet, it was for them that he did this. His hand fit within Frost's own, in a firm handshake and yet, he hardly saw the need to spoil that moment with any words. It was in that very moment that Tetradore cemented the fate of them all. Frost would achieve everything, the packs would be cared for, and he was left to find his own death in the most cataclysmic way possible. It all worked out in the end, didn't it?

He stepped away from that vehicle, his hand falling to the side and yet, that mention of learning something of illusions was perhaps equally as curious. He hadn't expected to find any sort of way to be able to tell those things apart and yet, if Frost held some sort of trick to it, he was more than willing to learn. "Fair enough. Give me a few minutes." He commented easily enough, his own affinity reaching out, those shadows all too eagerly embracing his form to whisk the man far from that burned and ruined hilltop. The walls of that Ark were wholly welcoming in that moment, quiet though they still were. It was almost tempting to leave Frost upon that mountain and retreat to the sanctuary of his own room and yet - such would hardly be very comradely of him, he supposed. Rather, he plucked several bottles of those harder liquors from the shelves before pulling another case of that beer they had so eagerly consumed. At the very least, Frost could not say he didn't offer him choices. Those shadows were all too easily employed to return the man to that age old home, the were-King entirely content to place that beer beside the previous case. "There's also whiskey and rum..." He commented, presenting the steed with those very bottles he'd plucked from the bar. If they were going to indulge in that liquor, they might as well do it right.