The vampire scarcely had to guess that the woman whom had darkened his doorway disbelieved that which he was capable of, though truly he saw no need to prove such a thing to her. She certainly hadn't been kind to him in any sort of fashion, not the sort of individual he'd expected some sort of great friendship from or anyone he saw a reason to impress in any fashion. She merely was, he was assured, entirely fleeting - destined to hate him in the same fashion all those women within Dorian's life had a tendency to do. Rather, he focused upon that simple task at hand, removing that crimson ribbon from around her waist and, in turn, letting that skin once again breathe. He was pleased, in truth, that his efforts to see to the healing of that knife wound had proved satisfactory, particularly considering how he had so lingered on the edge of control that night. She was so close to dying by his own hand that evening - by his need for blood to heal the wounds that had been afflicted upon him. How differently things could have been. He stepped away from her as her fingers moved towards that flesh, the vampire altogether apologetic for that scar she'd been left with, even if he hardly voiced a syllable on it.

That mare once again regained the majority of his focus, the Englishman had, perhaps, anticipated she would leave just as much as she had clearly considered it - at least, until that singular name fell from her lips. The effect it had upon him was near instant, his whole frame tightening at that simple utterance. William. His William. So then, she must have been the woman that he'd been occupying himself with, even if it never would have lasted. William would have come back to him one day - her mortality almost guaranteed it. Except...he wasn't with her if she was inquiring after him. A small frown tugged at his features as he so verbally connected those dots, that confirmation she provided him with should have been a relief and yet...it only made that pain all the more tangible for him. William had promised him. Hell, if it hadn't been for his need to make things up with the man, they never would have been in that alley in the first place where the trio of friends had once so horrifically died. It wasn't fair to cast it all upon him, he knew it. It was his fault, at the end of the day - their deaths, and maybe this too and yet...he'd promised.

His fingers toyed with those ropes that kept the mare in place, his voice finally speaking of that shared history he had with the man all those years ago within Victorian England. That silence he was regarded with was hardly a surprise to the man. After all, Vhalla herself had a rather prickly nature. She hardly seemed one for such moments of emotion as those that so frequently tugged at the undead man's soul. He didn't bother to glance back at her, however. Rather, Sebastian knew she was there. He could hear her heart beating within her chest, her blood moving through her veins. He didn't press her for any sort of response, merely moving to the opposite side of the equine to so work at undoing those knots as well.

It was that very mention of Dorian, however, that saw him pause, his fingers shifting to lightly toy with that ring upon his left hand. He could feel his lover's heartbeat transmit through that golden ring. He had never told the fae King about William, about the man living with him, about their once relationship or about that nearly ghostly thread that bound him to his childhood friend- one that was almost broken now. It was that woman's insistence that at least he had someone that saw him turn, those bright blue eyes so regarded her silently for a moment. "You know, Vhalla..." He started, lightly leading that horseback into the stall she belonged within. "I think if you stopped to truly consider it...you'd realize that even you are not entirely alone within this world." He closed the gate behind the mare, his hands still resting lightly upon the stall door. "I happen to know that Dorian is quite fond of you." He finished, those blue eyes slowly shifted back towards her to offer her a rather weak simper. After all, she was right, he had no room to speak, no reason to lament over William's absence...even if he did all the same.