For the majority of the were-feline's life, his world had existed entirely to please his mistress in whatever fashion so suited him - regardless of how disturbing or grotesque those commands she doled out often were. He had, at one point, been entirely assured that escape was all but improbable. The entirety of his life was surely going to spent within those halls of Syn as the ebony panther at her feet. He had accepted this fate, indeed the man had given into it in some aspects to the point that Risque's wishes had become carried out without a shred of fight from the man - at least, until Tobias and Nadya had quite literally tackled him on the streets of those quaint Southern homes. How their existence had turned his compliance upside down. How things had changed since those evenings he'd spent simply staring at the dark black threads that made up the carpet of Risque's office. Her insistence that the vampire was dead only caused his emerald eyes to raise ever so slightly and yet, he was hesitant to accept this possibility if only for the utter devastation that could overwhelm his soul if such hopes turned out to be false.

Still, the notion that the young woman before him intended to join him upon that rooftop managed to set the were-king upon edge once again, the man quickly disagreeing with such a notion before his thoughts turned to the all too plausible outcome of such a venture if the corpse upon the roof should prove still alive. He'd killed hundreds under her command - women whom he'd taken an interest in or vice versa, men whom had naively attempted to befriend him in some effort to get into Risque's inner circles, and god only knew there was the fair share of her enemies that had laid at his feet with their flesh marred with his own claws. No - he would not allow her to be yet another number in that infinitely long list of faces he simply failed to remember. He had to be certain that this was coming to an end and, as much as the fae would so fight him on it, he could only see this through without her. Still, there had been...something about that sharp insistence upon his lips that made the woman pause, agreeing that she would remain where she was whilst he so saw an end to this terrible chapter within his own life.

His own emerald eyes fluttered towards the clock on the nightstand, glancing at those numbers with the smallest of frowns as she echoed too the hours that lay before them and that fateful sunrise he was so awaiting. A soft exhale left his lips as she insisted he find some sort of rest. The man knew well that such placidity was impossible and yet, despite such, he settled against the pillows, encouraging the young woman at his side to simply speak whilst he so listened inattentively to those words she uttered. It was hardly long, as he so anticipated it to be, before Samantha's enthusiastic nature began to slow, her lyrics becoming further and fewer between and, eventually, he let the girl get lost within those dreams that had occupied her mind prior to his presence. His gaze remained trained upon that clock, slipping from her grasp and too her apartment's bedroom as that hour neared. Tetradore was determined to see to it that Samantha remained safe - whatever the outcome of this event would be.