Amusement dances in Vhal's eyes momentarily as Dorian assumes that she might destroy something. How she wanted to. She had nearly lost control of her powers twice in one night, the second time she had only managed to spare the house as well as the dwelling residents because of Sam. She needed to burn off energy and though she had no quarrel with the male, he was a source the witch was willing to feel some release of aggression. It wasn't long after she baited the faerie that she could feel Sam's annoyance rising as if it were a real thing. Daring a glance at the faerie queen, she cringes inwardly. The woman truly cared for the man.

Focusing her icy eyes back on the man in the doorway, Vhal takes in the easy touch Sam offers him and how her eyes light up with humor. Tilting her head slightly, the assassin was still uncertain about any types of relationships, they were weapons. Yet, here she was, utterly concerned about the fae queen. She should shove the emotions down and lock them away so she couldn't feel anything at all; but she was feeling reckless and curiosity was winning over reality.

After Dorian speaks, Vhalla rolls her shoulders in response, she flashes a humorless grin. Perhaps she would eventually get along with him. He wasn't easily baited and she briefly wondered what it would take to get under the ancient's skin. Sam's movements cause the assassin's gaze to fall upon her. Noting the obvious nervousness in the faerie, Vhal could feel her anger rise and her blood boil at the information she had shared earlier. Subconsciously she could feel the temperature begin to rise several degrees yet the roaring in her ears blocked out anything conscious about her body, until Dorian spoke again.

Eyes snapping back to the male, suddenly aware that she was about to lost control for a third time that night, her eyes narrow and she raises a hand to rub at her eyes. She was so tired. Replaying Dorian's question in her head, she almost decides to stand but it seemed like too much work. Huffing out a sigh, she toys with the name in her mind, asking if she was related to someone. As far as she knew she had no living relatives, no recollection of parents or any sort of guardian except her master. Though, the name sounded familiar, she was uncertain of who it was.

"I'm rather disappointed someone else shares my hair color," she drawls out, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of her mouth, "Do I wear it better?" she asks, pausing for his answer. "As for Frost, I've never heard of him. Maybe I'll have to set up a meeting with him to see who looks better with white hair," the lie rolls smoothly off her tongue without missing a beat. Why she lied about never hearing of Frost, Vhal wasn't certain. Perhaps it was the way Sam began to gnaw on her nails at the mere mention of his name. Turning back to Sam, she watches the faerie carefully, "You know, that's not good for your nails, right?" she teases in a tired voice, attempting to lighten her mood. Again, why the assassin was going through the trouble to help her out, Vhalla wasn't certain.