Vhalla hated to admit defeat. The assassin was smart enough to swallow that pride of hers and give into him as he so effectively pinned her. Though she still seethed with rage, she found it hard to let that anger consume her when the man simply shifted to produce not fur but skin. And when she wiggles beneath him to struggle from his hold she immediately stills when his waist presses into her, causing the woman to flush an even deeper shade of red. For only meeting this man once before, and briefly at that, she had seen and felt far too much of him than she would have liked. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself.

When she huffs at him that she gives in, Vhalla is surprised that he obliges her and removes his body from hers, her limbs suddenly cold from the absence of his warmth. This time, she successfully keeps her narrowed eyes trained on his features, not allowing them to travel the length of his body, only letting her gaze dart to his offered hand. Glowering at him for a moment, she ignores the outstretched hand and struggles to a standing position, the soreness already setting in her limbs. Dusting the snow off of her back, she looks away from him as she boils in silence, at least, until Tetradore begins lecturing her; she doesn't, however, miss the way his eyes traveled along her body.

Brows launching upwards, she swivels towards him, her lips parted in incredulousness. Realizing he's still naked, she quickly turns away and puts her back to him, not wanting to get caught staring at his toned frame again. "I don't believe I ever asked for your advice," she snaps out, folding her arms over her chest as she listens to him turn away from her to retrieve his clothing from the pile nearby. When she's certain he's had enough time to get decent, she glances over her shoulder to see the broad lines of his back. Her mouth suddenly dry, she looks away again until he's completely dressed.

"I can assure you, this isn't over. Just because you won this time doesn't mean I won't be back," she says dryly before uncrossing her arms and prowling over to him, her hair in disarray as the locks continue to fall from her braid. Reaching up, she undoes it, letting her white locks fall in waves over her shoulders just as she reaches the man. Tilting her head back to search his features, she hadn't noticed how tall he really was, she furrows her brows uncertain if she wanted to go with her idea. Though the assassin was a sore loser, it didn't mean she wouldn't owe something where it was due. She pauses for only a moment more before releasing a heavy sigh, "Come on, I owe you a new jacket," she growls rather ungratefully before gesturing towards him to follow her.

Ignoring her own disintegrated jacket on the nearby rock, she walks in silence back through the forest, not particularly caring if the were King was following or not; that's what she kept telling herself anyways. As a sudden breeze cuts through the forest, she shivers, her arms reaching up to hug herself; she needed to make this trip quick, she wanted nothing more to do then soak in the expanse of her tub at home to ease the soreness building in her muscles. She was careful as she moved through the forest in an attempt to hide her stiff limbs but the longer they walked, the more apparent it became.

When they reach civilization, she glances over her shoulder to see if the man followed her through the silent trek of the forest, stopping just outside a gentleman's shop. "We can get your new jacket here unless you prefer somewhere else," she says entirely honest though her words are still tinted with annoyance at her loss. "If you would like to go somewhere else, you can pay for a cab, it's freezing and I don't particularly care to walk all over town to find you a jacket," she mutters, looking away from him. Why was it so hard to look him in the face?

Oh, that's right, because she just saw him naked but moments ago and on top of that he had caught her checking out his body. And what did he do? Smirked; in amusement. Even the brief memory has her flushing a pale pink as she fiddles with her fingers, her back to the man.