The suspicion and wariness begins to ebb away, slowly but surely as Sam assures Vhalla that she was anything but a psychic. She hesitates at the hand extended to her but eventually, she takes it, giving it a frim shake and taking a seat back by the counter. Again, she wraps her fingers around the warm mug, tension still visible in her frame, but relief was clearly more prominent. The witch was thankful for the turn of events especially as she chews over Sam's explanation. Giving her a slow nod, accepting what the faerie had said, Vhal takes another sip of her tea. This time, she isn't paying attention to the flavor, she's more interested in warming her suddenly chilled body.

Horror creeps through her thoughts momentarily about all the ways she would have had to silence the queen. Disgusted with herself, she grips the mug tighter and glances up at the woman, "The tea is just fine, thank you," Vhalla replies, she supposed it would be rather hard to hide anything from someone who had the ability to sense motions. Quickly changing the subject, as if to leave her sudden outburst behind, "What do you mean about having to find out the hard way?" Vhalla pauses for a moment, "About your boyfriend I mean," she tacks on the last part as an afterthought.

Of course, attempting to change the subject didn't work well for the assassin. Regret; her constant companion rolls through her like a tidal wave. "I'm sorry for my minor outburst. I have a tendency to react before I do anything else," it's saved me more than once, she adds on silently. "There are a lot of... things that no one is privy to inside my head without being in danger," she comments vaguely, her body suddenly drained from the hurricane of emotions that slam into her.

"I would never want to hurt you, Sam," she sighs knowing that she was leaving that open for discussion if the faerie was interested in questioning it. In a short time, the fae had learned much about the assassin in, more than anyone would get out of Vhalla after knowing her for years. It was better that way, keeping others at a distance only if to keep them safe. She wasn't sure how to have relationships let alone friends. What exactly did friends do? Do they scour wounds on your back so not to get infected?

It was a memory that constantly plagued the assassin, a woman in the manor of her master's home who took it upon herself to clean Vhalla's wounds after she had disobeyed orders. Needless to say that woman was gone the next day and the assassin, even with her tracking abilities, could find no trace of her. Would that be considered a friendship even if she didn't know the woman's name?

Brushing the memory away, Vhal heaves a sigh and gazes at the dark liquid in her mug, knowing full well it was rabidly cooling if she didn't continue to drink it. Instead of lifting it to her lips, she uses it to keep her chilled fingers warm. Eventually, the white haired woman glances up, to peer into Sam's face. What exactly did this woman want from her?