Regan felt as if she had been waiting, no, praying for something like this to happen. Not that she hadn't enjoyed dancing with Tetradore -- she had -- quite unexpectedly to be honest. But this? The tension floating around them, the haze of rage and danger exuding from everything supernatural...this is what she lived for. What she thrived upon. It's what she knew and understood and sadly it put her instantly at ease. All the tension fled her limbs the moment she decided to fight at Tetradore's side -- a rare thing that. Regan had never fought with or for another being in her life. Perhaps it was time that changed. An inexplicable calmness settled over her and thrummed from her core. Her violet gaze glowing inhumanly as power welled and pulsed inside her, causing the very fabric of her being to intensify. She was simply more.

They drifted through the crowd quite effortlessly. Her violet eyes trained to catch each flicker of moment made by anyone within her gaze. Belatedly she registers the warmth of Tetradore at her side, shifting slightly to accommodate his breadth so as to not hinder him in any way. She reacted instinctively, the predatory nature of her tiger rising on the tide of her ability, as girl and feline at once acknowledge and alter their previously solitary nature to work in tandem with the panther. The sensation is foreign...and yet not entirely unpleasant. Her attention it torn from the man at her side when Tobias explodes from his tuxedo and instantaneously shifts to his leopard form. She watches him with interest as he advances but Regan remains at Tetradore's side. She would fight with him or whatever adversary he asked of her. Tobias could handle himself.

Regan, being so physically aware of Tetradore knows instantly when he senses something. She hasn't seen or sensed what it is, but reacts accordingly as her lithe frame moves unconsciously with his (not for the first time, Regan finds herself wondering if the emerald eyed Were had his own field of gravity). Just at the edge of her periphery, is a glimmer of silver. She knows its not the knife she had given Tetradore -- for she had blacked out all her blades for exactly this reason. Her blades give you no warning and you can't dodge what you can't see. So, when Tetradore grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled, she offered no resistance. Regan would spend long moments later contemplating the why of this. Her lips part in a silent gasp as he whirls her around and places himself protectively in front of her. Her gaze snapping to his when her back touches the wall. What in the world just happened?

She registers his pain first by the dilation of his pupils and then by the weakening of his grip. Instantly her violet eyes drop and begin searching him for some form of injury. Regan's eyes widen when they spot the silver arrow head peeking out from the flesh of his shoulder. Trembling, not with fear but adrenaline, she looks back up and stares at him, knowing her gaze must be reflecting nothing short of bewilderment, astonishment and confusion. Was she okay? Was SHE okay? Of course she was OKAY! He'd acted like her bloody meat-shield! Regan didn't know whether to be flattered that this powerful man had been willing to sacrifice himself for her or outraged that he'd been so utterly stupid as to put his life on the line for HER. Surely he wasn't so blind that he'd failed to notice the multitude of scars marring her flesh. That he'd missed the fact she was wholly capable of taking care of herself! But that piece of her, that sliver of gratitude she'd felt in the first moment when she realized what he'd done for her, bled into her eyes. The violet of her gaze sparkling with some emotion she'd never thought to experience ever again. For a brief moment, Regan remembered what it was like to be cared for. To know that someone cared whether she lived or died. For fourteen years she'd gone without that feeling...now it threatened to overwhelm her. Trembling -- now for an entirely different reason -- she lifts a hand and settles it against his cheek. Her thumb gently stroking the soft expanse just beneath his eye. She nods at him minutely. Yes. She was okay.

For a long moment she simply looks at him with something akin to wonder. The loud crash of the chandelier makes her jump slightly in the circle of his arms. Her hand dropping instantly from his face as if he'd burned her. Her violet gaze widening as all her senses return and she remembers his wound. Crap. She'd forgotten that he was hurt! Reaching out for the arrowhead before pausing and looking into his gaze so her intentions were clear. She steps closer to him, pressing the length of her body against his as she rises up on her tiptoes, reaching over his shoulder with her left hand and gripping the arrowhead firmly with her right hands thumb and forefinger. She gives him a second to prepare himself and then deftly pushes the arrow further through his shoulder with her left hand. With the right, she snaps the arrowhead clean off the shaft, not caring that the edges pierced the flesh of her palm. Dropping the arrowhead, she grips his shoulder with her right hand and slides the shaft of the arrow out with her left before letting it too fall to the ground. She stepped away from the warmth of his body. The need to put some distance between them overwhelming her until finally she felt her back touch the wall. Her eyes close and for a moment she simply breathes. Allowing the monotonous rhythm to calm the internal riot she was having. Her violet eyes flicker open and she lifts her gaze until they meet the emerald of his own. Taking a deep calming breath before slowly mouthing the words "Thank you." It was the understatement of the century, but hell, it was all she had.



"Thinks like this"