Oliver Burton

How she outwardly challenges him! It seems to drive his inner beast into a source of roaring conflicting turbulence, as though it wanted to claw out inside of its feeble cage and dominate that challenging force. Even despite somewhere the man truly admires the woman's vibrant spirit. Yet perhaps she was equal parts foolish and painfully unaware. Yet he still struggles, to maintain his human composure. It was hardly her fault, she hadn't the faintest clue she so literally poked at a dangerous bear that no unprepared human could survive. Yet, entirely oblivious she was, continuing to pluck at the chords of his wavering resolve. Pushing... pushing until he nearly growled with it, his last attempt at reason, a last-ditch effort to subside that situation.

That somehow worked.

Surprisingly enough, that fire directed at him was simply extinguished. A realization soon dawning upon her. Yet he hardly wished for Miya to shrink away into nothing... to diminish her until all that stood was a conflicted, embarrassed woman. That very admission seemed to cause her pain and yet that was the last thing he wished from her. A rough sigh escapes him as though trying to release some of the coiled tension warring within himself. After a moment of conflicted silence, he then spoke, choosing his words carefully. "I understand how that is. Far more than you probably even realize." how uncharacteristically soft those words were uttered then and yet how quickly she disarmed him all the same. That world hardly seemed worthy of trust, the people within it probably even more undeserving of it. Yet was that not the desire of humans and his kind? That simple desire to connect. Far more doomed to fail that they were to succeed.

He allowed her to speak, to get those words that flowed from her off her very chest as she saw fit. He doesn't pry any further either. After all, she was not wrong to not trust the predator she allowed into her home. "There is nothing wrong with offering that trust to only those that have earned to place to keep it." He uttered with a firm resolve. "In that respect, you should trust your instincts. If they tell you not to trust me...or anyone for that matter. There is reason for it. Trust yourself if nothing else.." He replied rather cryptically. Now perhaps would have been the right time to reveal that she had not invited a human into her home, after all, she did deserve to know. Didn't she?

One minute she wanted to have his head on a platter, the next she was apologizing. Almost appearing submissive, appealing to his dominant nature that roared inside of him. It prompted a pertinent question within the were's mind.. who was the true Miya? Was this sweet, blushing innocent, intelligent woman? Or was it the one who wanted his head on a spike? Maybe it was a little of both. But in those moments, it was impossible to tell. The businessman was so good at reading people and yet, he could hardly have her pegged. He should have left, this much he was sure of. A weary sigh abandoned him, as if unable to say the words that he should have left Miya's abode in that moment. But the were seemed impossibly lured by the promise of food. It was hard to tell, if it was the hungry man or the bear that refused to let him leave. He slid off his shoes before moving into the apartment. It seemed far fuller of life than it had been the last time. It was like no trace of her attack lingered within that apartment.

Yet it still felt strange, sitting in someone else's home, surrounded by pleasant fragrances that appeal to that inner bear along. His stomach growls in eager response, it took every ounce of his inner strength to not follow his nose straight into the kitchen. Fortunately, she drew his attention toward her. That mention of wine drifting his thoughts elsewhere. That selection of red wine went perfect with fish, it would seem that at the very least the worker hadn't led her astray. Yet it was the woman attempting to repeat the name of the type of wine that drew his nutmeg gaze toward her, her endearing laughter escaping her. Maybe... those French words did not come easily to her. "Close enough.." He could hardly help the throaty chuckle that escaped him, "Perhaps we will be better at drinking the French wine than speaking it.. What do you think of it?" That rich English accent rolled off his lips in questioned after she took a sip. Well, she must have, the woman having downed it a few moments later after returning to the kitchen. Perhaps a drunken Miya was not a good combination with all those piping hot surfaces. Even though it took every ounce not to say something, here merely took a sip of his own glass, enjoying its taste. He is careful not to drink it too quickly. Alcohol was a recipe for disaster to a hungry were. But it was some damn good wine.. he suspected, even better with a belly full of whatever dish she was crafting.

His watchful gaze so trails over to her, content to observe her deftly working away. She moved impressively, seemingly in her element. Every action she made seemed to waft over those tantalizing scents toward him. It smelled so good, he felt himself shifting in his chair. He could not lie, it felt nice to revel in this rare slice of peace he was offered. Yet, it felt wrong simply watching her do all that work. "Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help?" He called out, but she seemed to fixated on her task, it was clear he would only get in the way. In a moment, she suddenly burst out with a question, as if nervous to speak. How odd, she wasn't nervous telling him off before. He mused over her question thoughtfully formulating that reply. "I like to eat... I really like to eat.. I am afraid I spend a lot of the time in the office working. I don't get out much. So.. my favourite thing is.... Eating and my second favourite thing is..." He paused, trying to formulate his answer in a way that does not incriminate him. "....hiking... What about you, besides seeking out vampires that is?"

Miya was focused keenly with something at the stove, moving far too quickly. But she appeared to know what she was doing, pouring the scalding sauce into a bowl. He brought forth the wine to his lips, his form relaxed like a king sitting upon his throne, a leg easily crossed over the other. At least until her heard that whimper of pain slicing through the bustle of that kitchen. That sauce had splashed up and burned her flesh. She immediately moves to the sink, allowing the cool water to run over her burns before asking for her bag. Are you ok? That concern obvious in his baritone lyrics and in an instant he finds himself upon his feet to help her. He strode, smoothly through her apartment to wrap his fingers around the handle of the requested medical bag, hastily crossing her apartment toward her. Sympathy echoed in his rich nutmeg hued eyes, noticing the blush to her cheeks. "You can't seem to stop hurting yourself around me, can you?"

He placed the unfortunately familiar medical bag on the countertop beside her, once again noticing how petite she was next to his looming tall form. A sigh escaped him, offering his hand out. "Let me look Miya.." he uttered, leaving no room for question in his tone he offered his palm out for her to place her injured arm.