This man was as mysterious as the creature he shifted into, a giant jungle cat with piercing and vibrant emerald eyes. His eyes looked just as piercing as his cat form. Since she had been turned, her eyes have grown more vivid. As if taking on a glow like two blazing golden suns placed right in her sockets. As though looking at them too long could physically burn. Eyes that could pierce the soul.

She nods curtly at his gruff response, noting how grumpy this cat truly was. She could just imagine that big black cat's tail flicking back and forth. There was no better animal for this man to embody. He seemed like a contradiction, his actions were kind, his words held a callous edge to them. Fine by her, he didn't really make her skin crawl or completely put her off. He was grumpy entwined with a certain brand of kindness that didn't quite make sense to her.

Mira thinks carefully, cautious from the pain that drove her to escape her old life. She wasn't sure if she could trust him just yet, even though his actions have never betrayed her in any form. There was a moment enabling her to think within the scalding shower, as she washed off the pain, blood and dirt from her flesh. She allows her mind to drift to that moment in the woods and weigh out her options, play back every moment. Most were not given such a luxury. Perhaps she would hold her reservations until after dinner?

The she-wolf had entirely no idea the man was picking her up clothes and their dinner at a nearby shop, she did hear the odd quietude on the other side of the door, despite the old fan that clattered to suck the humidity out. It didn't sound like someone was cooking. It was unimportant, except for the revealing answers she would soon receive. Soon.

Soon she would have all she need. But in the mean time she was offered a gift, she still had life coursing through her. She had lived to see another day and as long as she possessed breath she was ahead in this rat race call life.

She ran her fingers through her tangled, towel dried hair, trying to detangle pieces that were as stubborn as she. A stray hand wiped the haze on the mirror so that she could see herself through the billowing mist, staring at her own weary face that looked blankly back at her. That weary face that was sick of running, sick of a life she was not in charge of. It was like being stuck in a pit of wet, slick mud. The walls thick with that metaphorical sludgy muck, that no matter how hard you tried she could not climb out and with every ounce of her being. Somehow, she managed to do so, winding up here in this very house with a cat that has done nothing but offering a helping hand and a promise to the knowledge she so craves.

After tending to the nasty wound and cleaning herself up she exits the small bathroom. The delicious smells assaults her. The biting pangs of hunger felt more prominent than before, her stomach even rumbled at her in anger at her neglect. The take out packages were already put away and he was hovering over the stove heating the potatoes that smelt of butter and garlic. He brought over their plates, placing hers in front of her. She peers down at her plate, the hefty piece of meat was as bloody as she preferred and steam formed above the piping hot potatoes. Mmm. Her mouth watered even as she questions him. "Everyone calls you Tetradore? Is that Spanish?" She questions, cutting a piece of stake, popping in into her mouth while resisting the urge of just digging in like the wild carnivore she was. Cutlery be damned! Now that would be just rude and she had more self-control than that. "You don't look like a Tetradore." She pokes her fork in the air at his direction slightly as she spoke softly, honestly admitting in her silent and careful contemplation. Maybe he looked more like his real name.

The pack very rarely used names when addressing one another, so even saying the word felt odd and foreign upon her tongue. "My name is Mira, just Mira." No fancy nicknames or the likes, she preferred it that way. She dug in for a second bite, her teeth biting into that tender, juicy meat as though it was her first meal in decades. "This is good.. Really good." She admits whilst holding back from inhaling the whole thing in just a few bites. She couldn't quite place that spice that seasoned the meat.

Leaning forward she digs in deeper, she was never one to quite dance around an issue and more the type to get down into the meat of it (pun intended)."Why don't you tell me who you are, Tetradore? You don't have to bare your soul completely to me, but I want to know who you are so I can understand this Frost when you describe him and why you hate him so much." She peers up, lifting her golden gaze to peer at him. It would give her a moment to stuff her face without looking entirely savage, but the wolfish urge to simply devour was there.

Mira Ramos