It would most certainly be Samantha's downfall that she was trusting to a fault. Sure, her trusting nature had gotten her kidnapped, though that had only manifested itself in a terrifying fear of faeries. Her first encounter with a Were had been Aiden, and the experience had shaped her to trust them, even if she shouldn't have. It was that that led her to trust Frost, even if the man had anything but her best interest at heart. His words terrified her, causing her mind to warp in the way that he intended, though the girl thought his words were spoken in sincerity. She doesn't wish to believe the man's words. How could she? The idea that he could want to cause her harm is hardly something she could believe. It is that that causes the girl to follow him to the curtain, her gaze landing on the illusioned fae in the crowd. Her gaze stays on them, not noticing the way his features twist as she struggles to catch a complete breath.

No, no. What had she done? She'd spent years trying to run from what she was, and she'd let herself actually come to think that she could have a home here. That she could interact with faeries â€" even if she didn't like them â€" and maybe learn more about herself. That she could make friends and be comfortable and loved, even. How foolish it was. That they'd been looking for her was certainly not something that she'd considered. After all, they'd left her alone to wake up in this new body. She'd assumed their play of her was over, the girls getting some sick enjoyment out of watching her writhe in fear in their care. But perhaps she'd been wrong. Perhaps all they wanted was for her to feel safe. A sick, twisted version of cat and mouse. It is these thoughts that cause her to swallow, turning to look at him. "Are you sure?"

He doesn't answer her question, instead merely speaking of Nadya and the reassurance that Nadya was not involved. "No," Samantha's voice sounded dazed, clearly the way she felt inside, as she nodded her agreement. "No. She lives at the Ark now. I don't want..." She shook her head, the thought drifting down a path that caused a bout of anger within the faerie girl. No. No. Aiden would not. He was better than that. Her voice spoke just a thing, though she immediately felt guilty for snapping on him considering the look that crossed his features. "I... I'm sorry. You're just looking out for me. I don't think Aiden would hurt me, but I do appreciate the concern..." Her voice wavered slightly, trying desperately to cling to the politeness that the girl was known for rather than the anger that had briefly consumed her.

It's the faerie behind him that sends the tiny girl into a frenzy of fear, her heart seeming to push itself all the way into her throat. No. No no. She hardly pays attention to the way that he turns, instead focused entirely on getting out of there. "I have to leave," She repeated, her voice shaking as much as the tiny faerie girl was. Her eyes don't quite meet Frost, instead focused on that spot behind him, as though the faerie man would return for her. No. What if he'd heard what they were speaking of? What if they knew what she was thinking? What she knew now? What if they decided the game was over, and that now was the time to take her? No, surely the burlesque wasn't safe right now. Going to the Ark seemed dangerous, considering what they'd just been speaking of. No, the only place that was safe would be her own home. After all, who would look for her in that dingy place? And Dorian had a sword, though she wasn't entirely sure he actually knew how to use it.


Samantha let out a sigh of relief as the man in front of her consented to walking her home. The young girl, honestly, was far too afraid to walk home alone, and in turn, equally afraid to phone Aiden or anyone of the Nightshade pack for assistance at the moment. She's relieved then, for Frost, content to follow him back out onto the street. She stays close to his side, nearly pressing her shoulder against the man as they walked. Her mind spun with images of what she had just seen, her paranoia twisting those images into what-ifs. What if they captured her? What if she had to be with those girls again? What if... what if...

The terrified girl continued to cast looks over her shoulder towards the empty street, despite that the only sounds were of their shoes against the pavement. Every now and again, Samantha would pause briefly, sure she'd seen something in the shadows. At once, Frost turned around to examine a noise that Samantha was sure existed only inside her head at this point. The shadowy figure it belongs to sees Samantha latch on to Frost's arm, a yelp escaping her lips that sounded entirely like a wounded animal. "Frost..." Her voice shook, though Frost seemed unbothered by the sound, nor the shadow. Still, the girl didn't let go of Frost's arm as they walked.

"I have a roommate," Samantha said after a moment in response to Frost's question, biting her lip as she once more examined the sidewalk behind them. "He's... He's another faerie. But he's... Oh, I wouldn't call him useless, that's not kind..." She seemed to scold herself for her words before she looked back up to Frost's gaze. "He's lived in a castle in Italy for the past five hundred years. He doesn't know how to work a stove and I'm still working on convincing him that cars don't eat people. He's as much of a threat as a butterfly." The girl's words were meant to reassure herself that she was not living in a dangerous situation, unaware that the description of Dorian would feed into Frost's plan in any way. After all, the girl still considered Frost to be a friend, hardly aware that her paranoia was all his doing.

Pausing outside of her apartment, the girl turns, nearly afraid to let go of the man by her side. But she'd just met him. She couldn't expect him to care enough to protect her â€" and why should he? He wasn't her boyfriend. Wasn't anything to her. He didn't even know her. Walking her home had been enough of a kindness, and perhaps a dangerous one if his words were true. "I can," She said slowly, doubt creeping up in her tone. It was only up a set of stairs, nothing too terrifying. She'd walked up those stairs a hundred times in nights later than tonight.

"Frost," She said, finally releasing him from her grasp. "Thank you. I appreciate it... Your concern..." She swallowed, forcing a smile onto her features despite everything. She may be terrified, but that genuine sweetness overcame the fear to reach out to squeeze his arm. "It means a lot. Thank you. Are you sure I can't pass a message to Nadya for you?"