Fur meets flesh, tail gliding along his leg, a little too close to home, causing his plush lips to twitch under his beard. He turns to her, allowing the door to close behind him as if to trap his new prey. His broad arms cross over his chest, head tilting slightly as he waits in anticipation. He should look away during the transformation, give her respect and privacy. But then again, if she didn't wish for him to look, she shouldn't have accepted his offer. Let alone change before him.

The scars catch his attention faster than anything else of her body. Scars litter her skin like unique art on a delicate canvas. Her wrists and ankles draw his gaze and a low animalistic grumble ignites in his chest. Something, or someone else had attempted to stake a claim.

This would not do.

Regan moves towards him, drawing close to his side and he allows his eyes to trail from her marked body to her eyes. She slides into his thoughts, invading his privacy with those enriching tones of hers. The demand is heard and his lips quirk, in response. Cute, she really thought he would obey. Her boldness is delightful, causing that normal warmth spreading through his body. Arms uncross, as his hands drift to her wrist. He grasps it, gently but if she were to pull away he would grip tighter. Her scarred flesh is intriguing to him and he moves her hand up to meet his gaze. He uses his free thumb to trace the scar gently, his calloused flesh feeling rough against her smooth, sun-kissed skin until finally, he releases her, a brief irritated look crossing his bloodied features. Moving away, the viking pauses to half turn as he motions with a head nod for her to follow. Silence befalls them as they make their way to the shower room, big enough for more than the two of them to be in together.

There was something almost instinctive about this; two feral creatures coming together against their own naturality. There wasn't an emotion to this, or at least not one that could be explained. It was more of an unspoken need that neither of them knew they needed. Some sort of comfort in finding another just as crazed as he. Well, let's be honest, no one could ever be like the viking and yet, this damaged dame came close.

The room is filled with steam, flooding his senses as his own musk mixes into the colorless smoke. It is everywhere, he is everywhere. He slides the glass doors open again, hands lowering to his towel, allowing it to fall to the marble floors. He turns to her, hand outstretched impatiently. How calculated, calm and gentle his movements are. All the while hiding the monster underneath. For now he appeared knight like, at this rate though it wouldn't take long for her to experience the demonic side.

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