The ebony panther's emerald gaze traced the brick facade of the building across the row from him, his feet shifting ever so slightly against the grated fire escape. He was intently aware of the corpse he'd left upon the roof of the apartment building, just as he too was innately aware of the moon overhead and her painstakingly slow descent over the horizon. It would still be a few more hours before the sun peeked through the curtain of night - before he was forced to return to the rooftop to see his job through. He should be there now, watching vigil over her as he so often did and yet the thought of it nearly made the man shutter. Sitting still was, for once, a decidedly difficult task. The feline stood, fully intending to pace the length of the fire escape from top to bottom if only to rid himself of the excess adrenaline that so coursed through his veins. At least, that had been the animal's intent until a sound behind him immediately saw the man froze. His ears pinned to his skull, his thoughts momentarily panicking as his cranium turned towards the opening window. Shit. He hadn't meant to wake her, she was supposed to be asleep by now, she was supposed to stay asleep.

Tetradore immediately stepped away from the young fairy as the girl stepped out onto the fire escape, his emerald eyes momentarily tracing her form as her voice repeated his name. It took the feline a moment to truly remember his usual efforts to present her with that facade of placidity, and indeed a moment longer even to force his form and thus, each action to still. He was used to this, to appearing indifferent to whatever atrocities surrounded him and yet, that anxiety was still there, tucked somewhere deep within his soul. He had nearly forgotten of the piece of leather and silver fastened around his neck, for so long it had been a weight he was entirely used to baring it. He flinched away from her touch upon the collar as he strove to unclasp it, releasing it from his flesh. The ebony feline shook out his coat, as if the collar had somehow perturbed that pristine smoothness of his fur - regardless of the other wounds that still littered his hide. Tetraodre's emerald gaze glanced upwards towards the woman at the sound of her voice, the man all too aware of that look of horror that marred her fair features. Abruptly, his eyes turned quite pointedly aware from the girl's petite figure, his gaze searching the face of the building across from him as he struggle with his own thoughts on her discovering this.

She was never supposed to know of his past, not truly. His own sister had thought him little more then a pet. She had thought him not even a true were. Not to mention the cruelty of the prior life he had led, one which surely Samantha too would have found unforgivable. Pity was, perhaps, not something Tetradore was used to when it came to those years he'd lived under his mistress' hand. He'd known she'd come back someday and yet, Tetradore had merely thought that he would but disappear from all of their lives to once again be bound by her side rather than what had actually occurred. Everything he'd thought was gone and yet, rather than the elation he should have felt, there was still a lingering emotion from hardly believing she was dead, not to mention the fact of how close she was. It was those thoughts that occupied Tetradore's mind, the man entirely unprepared for the fashion in which the young woman dropped to her feet to embrace him. His form nearly immediately froze with that simple action, entirely weary of the way her fingers trailed down his fur.

His ears flicked at the sound of her voice and yet, the man remained entirely hesitant on this plan of action. How did one talk about the last ten years? How did he voice all that he had endured and what all would this change? Still, as the girl pulled away the ebony feline slinked after her, easily climbing through her window much in the same fashion she had. He paused on the other side, his form sitting on the floor as his emerald eyes glanced over the contents of her room and the things that had changed since he had last given it to her. He was, in truth, entirely unsure of this shifting notion. After all, if Risque did come back to life - if she came back for him, he was far stronger in this form than that of mortal skin. At least in this form he wouldn't have suffered from that forced shift he so abhorred. There would, perhaps, be far more coaxing required for the usual stoic man to give away his perhaps greatest secret.