There was a barely contained glee as Sam handing her the bottle to inspect, and inspect it she does. It was practically magic for Vhal, though she lived in the modern world and was barely more than a child, she had lived a sheltered life. Items like this she was not even aware of its existence, so when Sam offers her to keep it there's a momentary pause where the assassin wanted to flat out refuse but she had a feeling that the faerie would insist on her keeping it. Vhalla merely flashes a smile over her shoulder, offering her thanks. It was then, that the queen wound her mass amount of hair up into a bun, piled on top of her head and the witch knew it wouldn't stay in place for long.

As she predicted, the moment she moved, the bun toppled form her head in some form on her side which let a small delicate laugh escape through her lips. Reaching up to pull the hair tie from her hair, she handed it back over to Sam, "That's why it's always braided, it takes far too much work to knot it on top of my head," she shrugged an apology, eyeing the faerie's on hair with slight envy. "Thank you for brushing my hair though," she comments, reaching up to tug a lock into her hair and play with it on her fingers.

It was such a human thing to do that Vhal struggled with such kindness. The assassin was certain that if Sam knew what she did for a living, the woman would certainly shun her and immediately remove her from her home. But may be for a while, Vhalla could act like she was a normal girl for once. It was that thought that continued to roam through her mind when Sam offers to show her the laundry room. Shaking her head, "It needs to be cleaned a certain way, I'll just have to deal with it later today and clean it when I get home," she pauses, as she shifts to tuck her legs beneath her, "but thank you."

When their conversation shifted to something more personal, Vhal couldn't help but stiffen, a dead look glazing in her eyes. It wasn't something she was comfortable talking about to others, let alone fellow supernaturals that could use such information against the assassin if it had fallen into the wrong hands. I small shudder echoed through her frame as she thought of the history between herself and her master, such disgusting and treacherous actions that she was looking forward to finally leaving behind. She didn't know what it felt like to be free, but Vhal worked for that goal every single day. "He has taught me certain skills to survive in this world, for that I do owe him my life. At least he was generous enough to not enslave me for it," she commented bitterly and looked away eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

It was then that Vhalla switched conversation topics and at first confusion swarmed through her. She wasn't entirely sure at what Sam was getting at as she began her story and the faerie queen looked more uncomfortable than she had the entire night. Focusing her attention back on the fae, the assassin shifted her suit to the floor, to pile on top of her shoes, making sure to keep an eye on it and listened to the tale she wove. There were things in her story that Vhalla could not and would not ever relate to, such as parties for her own entertainment or college. Where Vhal had thought it may have just been more girl talk the story suddenly shifted and her icy eyes began to narrow dangerously.

Picturing the scene in her mind caused a rather feral look to etch its way across her features as she finished her tale. Searching the faerie's neck for details she had missed earlier in the night she found the faint scar that lined her neck, which was her undoing. Uncertain as to why she was acting the way she was, Vhalla exploded from her sitting position on the bed as she began to pace back and forth in the room like a caged animal. It was the first form of fear Sam had expressed towards the assassin and it was something the witch never wanted to see again. To Vhalla, Sam was the most innocent person she had met and the white haired woman could not stand seeing the faerie practically cowering from the memory.

Snarling, Vhalla seemed more animalistic than human at the moment and then she suddenly stops in the center of the room, deathly still as her icy eyes lock on Sam, a promise of violence etched there. "I will destroy them," it was barely above a whisper but the threat was very real. She would protect this faerie. It was then she could feel the lock she caged on her powers snap open, the magic pooling in her blood and Vhalla did not even have time before she began to feel the fluttering of fire at her finger tips, a heat wave surrounding her sending her hair swaying in its self-made heat wave. The assassin was losing her control and instead of fear the accompanied her magic, it was pure hatred for the faerie's who had tortured Sam.