Clothes had never been Tetradore's forte. He had never much seen a point in the whole designer ware, even if much of his life existed with those rather expensive clothing so adorning his body - when he was mortal, that is. When the man had found his freedom, and then his own wealth, he'd simply paid someone else to fret about that shopping for him, often resulting in the man appearing to have far more of a fashion sense then he truly had. Still, his stylist had managed to teach him something, the man entirely assured he could get her at least some sort of outfit that didn't look utterly awful. His emerald eyes met the golden one of the young woman's as she eyed him with clear hesitance, that suggestion that he would check in on her finally seemed to break the girl's silence. The woman's insistence that she was 'tough', and thus would hardly be here long was met with a small nod of his head, that demand to not be in his debt only caused a small shrug to cross his shoulders. "You're not in my hair." He stated simply, "I don't come here very often anymore." It had been Samantha's flat once. The first home she'd ever had. He'd bought it after she moved out, in case she ever wanted to come back...but not that the woman had left, there was near no need for it to be anything beyond a sort of safe space.

Rather, the were-King continued on with a suggestion of a shower and of food, and then he would provide her an answer to all those questions that had clearly been linger upon her mind. He hadn't anticipated that she might have such a need for knowledge so immediately. He'd expected she might need days to heal before she was cognizant enough to pry for why he'd presented her with such a peculiar offer in order to ensure she didn't wind up on the opposing lines. A small simper tugged at the corner of the man's features at that clear hint of surprise that danced upon her fair features, that prospect of a meal had apparently been unexpected and yet...if Tetradore was near starving, surely even she too had a desire for food. The warm juicy steak sounded particularly delectable, with some potatoes - yum. The notion of it all was appealing enough that Tetradore found himself hoping she wasn't some sort of vegetarian or terrible anti-steak person. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. His head bobbed ever so slightly at the girl's preference on her rarity, even if he did find it almost amusing that she thought he would cook it. Cooking was one thing Risque had never had a need to impress upon him, and after her there had always been someone else to deal with such a thing - but he did have the money to get someone else to cook it.

A soft chuckle left his lips as she admitted that it sounded perhaps as heavenly as it did to him, admitting in the aftermath that she was happy if she could merely keep it down. Ew. Either way, Tetradore took a step away from her, clearly intending to busy himself with that list of tasks he'd provided for himself whilst she saw to her own wounds. That rather abrupt insistence that this shower was on her own terms saw the man shake his head, his eyes rolled and yet, he hardly felt any sort of need to argue over something so frivolous. "Whatever you say." He muttered simply enough before those shadows raced towards the male, his body simply disappearing entirely to leave her to her own devices. He knew well she would feel better once she was clean, had her wounds tended to, and food in her stomach. Maybe then, this need to feel so utterly independent might waver, and if not, it was nothing he was not capable of simply dealing with.

It took him a bit longer then he had anticipated to so see too that veritable laundry list he had provided for himself. Returning to that room tucked away in Red on the Water had taken but mere seconds, much less to find those clothes Isolt had gotten for him, one of his few outfits in that place of hiding. Collection from his cash assets took a bit longer still before he'd purchased some jeans and a shirt in what he could really only guess was her size. Collecting the girl a package of underwear was sheer thoughtfulness and though he'd considered fetching her a bra as well, Tetradore merely found himself staring blankly at the sizes before shrugging the idea off altogether. He'd gotten her a shirt and a hoodie, that was surely enough for her to go back and find something else that fit her better, at the very least. Maybe he'd leave her some cash or something to make up for his own failings on the clothing department. Ordering that steak to go, however, truly took the longest as he reclined in the waiting room of some fancier restaurant that he most certainly would not have dined in and yet, soon enough, Tetradore returned to that apartment to find her, thankfully, still settled in that bathroom with the loud whirl of the fan circling over head.

Tetradore tossed that bag of clothes onto the bed before moving towards the kitchen, unpacking the food he'd purchased only to grab a pan from under the cabinets with the sole intention of reheating those sides back to their piping perfection. That steak was already on their plates and the to go containers in the trash by the time she'd stepped from that bathroom, a wave of heat near following in her wake. The sound of her voice caused his emerald eyes to glance upwards and yet, he said little in response to her insistence that his creation smelled good. After all, it wasn't even his to begin with. He stuck his finger in those mashed potatoes, happy to find them exactly as hot as he preferred them before placing a heaping amount on both of their plates. Tetradore made his way from that kitchen, placing that plate in front of her as he took up his own place across from her. That teasing sound of her voice caused a small shrug of his shoulders as he collapsed within his own chair. "Sure." He muttered simply enough at that nearly mischievous glimpse to her features, the man altogether hesitant now in the wake of that look. Her insistence that they would start small was met with the raise of his eyebrows and yet, truly, that first question was hardly difficult at all. His name. "Everyone calls me Tetradore." It was hardly his real name, not the one he'd kept to himself even from his vampire mistress, but it was the one name everyone but his sister knew him by - she was given no different calling than anyone else. "And yours?" He inquired, glancing up at her as he stabbed his fork into that first piece of deliciously red meat.