He clung to the very warmth that radiated from the white plastic cup, that beverage his very lifeline in a turbulent sea of contemplations that all but assaulted the Were-King's thoughts in the wake of Samantha's re-emergence in his life. Despite those fleeting considerations that so twisted and tumbled, his very emotions seemed to remain but a fixated glimpse of aloofness. His feet dragged ever so slightly across the tiled floor as Tetradore maneuvered towards the table Samantha had chosen - an isolated island amongst the soft hum of the Bakery. The Alpha settled heavily into the chair across from her, the vivid emerald of his irises so focused upon the young woman alone as her soprano voice inquired briefly of that condo he'd purchased just for her. Tetradore's shoulders lifted in a subtle gesture with his own disregard for that now occupied flat. For years it had been neglected and his own inattentiveness, it'd surely fallen prey to a fine layer of dust in Samantha's absence. It was hardly the memories that deterred the Were-King, much less any sort of lingering thought that somehow it was Samantha's or any fool-hearted notion that she might one day return to him. Quite on the contrary, it was the simple fact that life had been a cataclysm of unfortunate events that so required his astute attention to balance so precisely. The very state of that apartment, much less it's occupants, had merely become trivial to the man, overshadowed by all that so took up his time. This was merely another matter that so found a way to resolve itself without further thought on the Alpha's behalf and, for that, Tetradore was admittedly grateful.

That downcast look to Samantha's fair features, however, hardly passed unnoticed by the Western Monarch though he struggled to place the very source of her disappointment. Would it have pleased her more to find her home refurbished and occupied? Or was it the simple fact that he had chosen to retain the possession of his investment rather than bequeathing it to her in the manner he once had? Samantha was, it seemed, still as vexing to him as she had been at times been during the extent of their relationship. Her emotions were ever encompassing and distinctly difficult for him to comprehend and yet, this time, he hardly inquired as to the origins of her discontent. Not this time. Instead, a soft grunt left his lips, the man offering little beyond that simple acknowledgment that he had heard and would surely consider that financial number, something well within her means, if he ever bothered to get around to it at all. Slowly, his malachite gaze turned towards the window beside him, fluttering over the blustery winter outside. That silence that beset them was all too familiar to Tetradore and yet, he was distinctly aware of that unusual hush that so seemed to radiate from the fae woman in turn. Once upon a time, she had so filled those gaps with relative ease and yet now that awkwardness was all too poignant within the air between them. How much had changed within those short years, that distance had become all too discernible.

The sound of her voice, despite the hesitance that so seemed to afflict it, immediately drew the man's depthless irises back towards her petite figure. He could hardly help the rise of his brow at the very mention of Frost and that fateful evening of his own demise. Although Tetradore had found a comfortable sort of accord with the opposing Alpha himself, the very circumstances that had led to that eventful brawl, much less the fallout from it still prompted a flash of irritation from the once apathetic man. That very emotion so fluttered across his features, and thus across the cool tranquility of his emotional aura before slipping back beneath that perfected facade of indifference. He sipped upon that steaming beverage, simply listening to that very passion that so seemed to momentarily grip the young woman, causing her voice to raise an octave than it had moments ago been. That abrupt pause, however, was hardly one he felt inclined to fill, Tetradore merely allowing her the space to utter those thoughts that so saturated her mind as she wove that tale of finally hunting the very hearts of her nightmares - her own makers. The corners of his lips tilted downwards ever so slightly as she spoke of the outcome of that very event - those women she had feared for so long clearly hardly viewed her as even an experience worth remembering. "I'm sorry, Samantha." He offered to her if only to provide her with some sort of vague hint of empathy.

Tetradore's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as Samantha's gaze turned downwards towards the remnants of her melted foam, that drink quite untouched in the wake of those words that had clearly demanded to be spoken. It was some moments later that she broke that silence again, only to admit that she had missed him. How foolish he had been to form such an intimate connection with the young fae girl - to think he might even be allowed the delicacies of adoration. It had been wrong of him to so let those feelings she had foster when he knew he had every intention of obliterating them for her own safety. With his vampiric mistress so stalking the shadows of the night, there would be no safe harbor for Samantha if the girl chose to involve herself with him. Risque would dominate her and break her. She would shatter that gentle soul into a million tiny pieces - likely with Tetradore's own hand. His gaze softly observed that glassy look to her irises as she finally turned back towards him, that final utterance so finally prompting a soft sigh to his lips and for a moment, his own gaze turned elsewhere as he contemplated those very words he might so offer her to soothe her soul whilst so maintaining that carefully crafted distance. "You're right." He uttered at last, his attention slowly sliding back towards her petite figure. "You should have told me. Things could have been different if I'd know...but you and Nadya have this....tendency to just leave me out of it and...." His voice trailed off, his hand gestured lightly before the Alpha merely shook his head in a dismissive manner. How drastically different things could have been. He could have salvaged that relationship with his sibling, he could have seen to it that Samantha wasn't hurt, he could have not died - if only he had known all that he knew now. If only. "It doesn't matter now, Samantha." The Were-King continued after a moment, "It's all in the past."