Tetradore was hardly surprised, really, that the conversation with his sibling had gone particularly poorly. Still, he hadn't expected the full extent at which those words she'd spat at him had hurt, nor the way in which she'd so viewed his demand for a choice. He could hardly simply dance around the matter of the woman and that Norwegian man that had brought him so much pain any longer. Nadya, it seemed, was determined to cast him in a poor light, to play the role of the victims, to demand that he was disowning her rather than admit the simple fact that she'd long ago betrayed him. She was so steadfast in her thought processes, unable to see any way but her own, unable to hold compassion for any problem but her own. Such a damn, selfish woman, and yet, she preoccupied the entirety of his thoughts as that blue bugatti raced down the roads of Sacrosanct, as if the man could simply run from his problems. He was, perhaps, tempted to. After all with Nadya having chosen Frost and Tobias and Raven's relationship blooming with such ferocity, there was precious little in the city left for the Alpha. There was no Samantha to keep him here - nothing but his obligations to his pack and even that was tentative. After all, he'd heard rumors of Regan recently taking company with some newly formed mercenary group. It'd be so easy to run, so god damned tempting and yet, there were some things that still needed to be tended to today.

He had, after all, promised that wolf that he'd check in on her and yet, broaching that stubborn woman hardly seemed appealing at the given moment. He needed some sort of pick-me-up. If there was one thing that Tetradore could count on - it was the bakery. They were always open from nine to five every monday through friday except on public holidays. Always. They knew him by name now, the girls always content to flash him their warmest grins and yet, the were King said particularly little to them beyond ordering two dozen cookies. He had every intention of sharing a box with Tobias later but, for now, shoving twelve cookies in his face sounded particularly delightful. It was only with cookies in tow that Tetradore found himself venturing towards the more run down part of what was deemed his district. He climbed those familiar stairs to what had been his ex-girlfriend's first apartment, the man already cracking open that box of cookies in the process as he took a large bite out of it, letting the sweetness fill his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully as he knocked on that door, waiting for several moments till nothing but silence answered him. It was with a bit of juggling required before Tetradore pulled those keys from his pocket, fitting it into the lock before shouldering the door open and stepping inside. "Mira?" He called, his emerald eyes swept the room and yet the woman hardly seemed present. It was clear she was still staying here though, that bed looked sufficiently slept in and he could see her things at the foot of it.

Tetradore meandered over towards that bad, taking another bite of his cookie as he eyed the pillow creation with touch of a frown to his lips. What was that supposed to be? If it was a fort, it was a pretty piss poor one. His head cocked to the side before he moved towards the table, placing that box of cookies down as he shoved that last bite into his mouth. Tetradore pulled all those pillows off the bed, tossing them to the floor before pulling off the entirety of that mattress. It took some effort but soon enough, the bedframe was on it's side and tucked against the wall, the headboard and footboard creating the perfect sort of walls as he shoved the mattress in between them. The pillows were tossed against that hard wood that had once been the bottom of the bed before that comforter was placed precariously on top. He tucked the white feather comforter between the bedframe and the wall, that blanket draping down and onto the bed in an entirely unsatisfactory fashion. It took some considering before Tetradore pulled the chairs from the table, that comforter then placed upon them in an effort to hold them in place. It took him perhaps even longer to find something to keep them there. There was a pile of cookbooks Samantha had left behind, shoved in the back of one of the cupboards. The books were piled upon one chair to secure the blanket whilst the other was secured with several canned good. One couldn't say Tetradore wasn't entirely inventive when the desire struck.

The man stepped back, eying that pillow fort he'd created for several long moments before he gathered those cookies, dropping to his knees only to crawl under that comforter and onto the still somewhat made mattress. If Mira was going to be gone, Tetradore saw little reason not to enjoy this solitude, that little cave somehow comforting as he cracked open that plastic box of cookies once again, entirely content to continue his decidedly depressed eating.