She didn't know why she was still here. Why the assassin was still hanging out in the apartment in yoga pants and a white t-shirt, barefooted was beyond her. Vhalla should have gone home ages ago, she should have been gone before Dorian and Sam had left to go get groceries. The face that Sam was still okay with a stranger lingering in her apartment while she wasn't home baffled the witch, it made her want to tear her hair out and set the apartment afire. Yet, she calms herself, she did not want a repeat after last night after she really did almost burn down the building. It was only from Sam's quick thinking to stifle the rage that flowed through her veins. Shaking the memory away, she pads downstairs and into the kitchen snooping through the cabinets and drawers.

It was such a normal household it made Vhal almost envy the normalcy of it. Sam would most likely never see the warehouse the assassin lived in but she couldn't help but picture the numerous weapons and poisons scattered across her home, while the deadliest thing here was a block of knives. Pushing her lengthy white hair behind an ear she hears the lock being worked on from the door, at first she thinks that Sam must have forgotten something and was coming back to get it but the assassin could not hear the jingle of the keys. Eyes hardening, she makes a split decision and snags the block of knives from the counter and drops behind the counter, hidden from view.

Listening to the door being eased open quietly, she knows suddenly that it isn't Sam or Dorian coming back. It's a classic breaking and entering and Vhal can't help but let the corner of her lips tug up into a feral grin. It was about time she let off some steam. Quietly removing the knives from the wooden block she hears the bump of a table and the wobbling of some object that is seized immediately. The intruder had a thing or two to learn if they were going to try and trespass while there were other people in the household.

Standing silently, she is expected to be met with cussing or some sort of insult but instead it's silent. The woman's, because it is a dark haired woman, back is faced toward Vhalla and without warning, she throws the steak knife, handle rotating over blade, until the blade imbeds itself in the wall not a half an inch away from the woman's head. Flashing a dangerous smile, she cocks an eyebrow as she moves from behind the counter to the front and casually leans against it, playing with the assortment of steak knives she has in her hand. Inspecting the woman, Vhalla didn't feel that the intruder normally broke the law this way, however, looks could very well be deceiving. The assassin knew that first hand.

"I suggest you start talking."