Foxes are not all that common in this area, he says (amongst other things) and she feels a familiar instinctual pull in her gut, the reminder that she should pay attention despite the clouded haze descending upon her brain. His words aren't surprising to her; foxes tend to be one of the lesser Were in terms of population, though not for lack of trying. For some reason or another, the lines were ending. Hers had come close to it, a thought that crosses her mind just long enough to cast a shadow across her glazed blue eyes.

"Perhaps I might. You'll have to introduce us," she says, her eyebrows rising with piqued curiosity. One of these Weres could be her sister, a revelation she keeps from him by shrugging the subject to an end, feigning loss of interest in the idea of other vixens roaming the streets. It's best that she doesn't divulge too much, not yet. Even in her mildly drunken state she is able to remind herself that trusting strangers could be dangerous.

Hell, everyone's dangerous until proven otherwise. This she had learned while fleeing from the compound where her family had lived for so long, nursing a bruised hip and a bullet lodged in her shoulder blade; she can still remember the crack of the gun, the ringing that drowned out the sound in her ears only half a second before hot metal tore through flesh only to be stopped by the crack of bone. But the pain wasn't the worst part of it all. No, the worst part was being alone. Not knowing who was alive, who was dead.

A cool shudder crawls down her spine as the memories and feelings come rushing back. She does her best to return her focus to Frost, to listen the story of his unique christening but it is a struggle that leaves her brow furrowed and her expression troubled. "I suppose I'd get tired of people mispronouncing my name, too." Her voice is airy, soft and teasing but with little true sincerity; her heart feels too heavy to joke lightly, the memories still fresh. It is an unfortunate side effect of alcohol, one she hasn't gotten used to quite yet. It's like trading one evil for another, dulling the spirits that haunt her only to breathe life to the past that drags her down as well.

But she could deal with the past. She has to deal with it, but the ghosts? She can silence them long enough to feel at least some semblance of normalcy every now and again.

She stands abruptly, sways in place as the fire burns her cheeks, stumbling over words trying to clarify that she in fact had no nefarious or less than ladylike intentions but it is no use; in the end, she looks much like a scolded puppy - embarrassed, downtrodden, redfaced. When he says her name her head snaps up and she scowls, unable to keep herself from responding to the sharp command woven into his voice.

She doesn't like following orders and yet it is not in her nature to disobey, however much she might dislike the demands. Too docile, her father had once called her when he had expected more fight in his daughter. A middle pack dweller with not enough fight to get noticed, not enough of a submissive to be protected by the pack; just an average vixen with no particularly special traits - not unless her odd ability to see the dead counted. It didn't often, though there had been an older woman from a visiting pack who had called her "child of ill omen."

Something had told her it wasn't a compliment.

Even as she tries to fight the pull of the Alpha, she feels herself relaxing. Her face slackens and her lips pull up at the edges forming a half-embarrassed smile as he reassures her that he indeed understood her meaning from the get-go; she finds comfort in this as if she hadn't sounded like a total fool. With a wave of his hand towards the door she starts moving, her legs unsteady as if she were walking the deck of a ship in high waters yet still functioning at some capacity. When she reaches the exit and pushes open the door to welcome in a burst of mild evening air she looks over her shoulder at him, stepping onto the sidewalk and into the bustling nightlife of the city. When he speaks she finds herself listening - trusting, still affected by the pull of Alpha as if he were a source from which her strength and calm emerged.

"I've been staying in hotels while looking for ..uh.. an old friend... Though..." Her face scrunches in thought and a look of distaste creases the spot between her brow as a sudden revelation dawns on her.

"I checked into one of the Hilton's this morning, though I can't quite remember where it is.. or if it is the only Hilton in this city - that could make things confusing..."

She is rambling, scowling at herself and cursing her decision to not write down the address of the place before coming out drinking.. At least then she could have given him the address so that he might lead her in the right direction.

"Shit," she mutters, her gaze flickering towards him with pleading desperation.