He was sleeping. Utterly and completely blearier eyed with sleep, that Vhalla can't help but let a chuckle escape her lips. Folding her arms across her chest in the doorway, she leans casually along the door frame, her fingers itching to flip the light switch on, just to see how irritated she could make the faerie. "My, oh my! The faerie king has been having a lot of nightly excursions as of late, why might that be?" The assassin had a knack for prying into business where she was unwanted, she simply could not help it.

"As for it being far too early for you to be awake, it's ten in the morning, even if you were out all night, a few hours of sleep is plenty for anyone to run on," she shrugs at him, that irritating grin stretching wider as he rolls over and peers at her from his blankets. Perhaps she would douse him in water, she was fast, but she wasn't sure if she was faster than Dorian. "What if I told you that Italy was on fire right now because I set it on fire?" She laughs before, finally prowling into his room.

She leaves the light switch alone and instead walks towards the window, clutching the drapes and looking over her shoulder at the faerie, a wicked grin corrupting her features, before she throws them open, the sunlight pouring in and ridding the dark room of shadow. "Now that the curtains are open, I doubt you will have the ability to fall asleep again," she purrs at him, before swaggering over to his bed, plopping herself down on the end of it.

Vhalla knew he was raised in a different era and she couldn't help but take advantage of what he knew of the modern-day world and it's women. Crossing her legs, she laces her fingers around her knee as she precariously balances on her bottom as she leans backwards. Glancing at Dorian, she arches a brow at him. "I'm bored, Sam is never home," she shrugs again before looking away, a shadow crossing her eyes briefly, "You told me you would teach me how to...," trailing off she swallows as she takes a moment to regain her composure, "You said you would help me learn how to control my magic."

Refusing to make eye contact with the faerie, she faces the wall, tracing the patterns along it. "I almost lost control again, I can't afford to hurt someone I care about," she mutters. The assassin had never intended to let Dorian see such a side of her, but sometimes she couldn't help but be honest with others. Finally, she glances back at him, the playfulness from earlier replaced by seriousness. "Won't you help me?"