I wonder what it's like to be loved by you

A soft breath left his lips as his gaze settled on her misty eyes, her hand clutched to her chest as she tried to keep back those tears despite her obvious pain. He could smell it - the distinct metallic scent of blood, even if it was the smallest drop, beading upon the tip of her finger. Her hand was soft and silken, nestled within his palm - a sharp contrast to the hard calluses that had marred his. Gingerly, his fingers wrapped around her hand, tilting it to the side if only to get a better look at her pinched skin.

It was a small wound.

Insubstantial, really.

But she was not like him.

She did not suffer in the ways he was used to. Pain was his friend by this point, a far too frequent companion. Her wound would heal quickly, the pain would ebb fast till it was but a distant memory in a few hours time. "It's not that bad." He offered, even if it that much was obvious. She murmured a soft apology, one that drew his striking gaze upward and towards the clear flush in her cheeks. His brow rose silently, the Alpha entirely uncertain why she'd say something like that...?

"Uh...it's...fine?" He responded, the edge of those words tilted in a question as she sniffed softly. A small frown tugged at the corners of Tetradore's lips as his tenant insisted she had band-aids...somewhere. She had just moved in, after all. It was entirely possible that anything first-aid related had been shoved into some box to be put away at a later date. The Were-King's free hand reached up, running through his curly brunette locks. "Okay...I can look for them, you should run that under some cold water, it'll make it feel better."

His fingers wrapped around her wrist, leading her towards the bathroom just off the hall. The faucet was turned on with a flick of his wrist, her fingers thrust under the cooling embrace of the water. Tetradore reached up for the medicine cabinet, flicking it ajar to take a look inside. A soft sound left his lips as he reached up, moving some bottles around to pull out the familiar blue box of bandages. He pulled open the top of the box, retrieving one of the band-aids from inside. The paper package was ripped open, his gaze turning upward towards her as he gestured lightly for her finger.

That same nagging hint of deja-vu tugged at the back of his thoughts, that feeling one he couldn't chase away, even as he fastened the band-aid around her finger. Tetradore stepped back, the Were-King silent, for a moment, as he watched her profile before his head slowly tilted to the side, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. "...What's your name?" He inquired, entirely unsure of how that might help him.