Tetradore didn't dislike his first name, not in the slightest. The man was merely protective over that singular word. It had, for so long, been the only part of him that the vampire woman whom had so stolen him could not touch - simply because she had not known it existed. It was a thing he safeguarded with his life, as if giving it improperly might so have stolen what remained of his identity. The reasoning behind it hardly made much sense, even he knew that now and yet, as a child, it had been at least something to hang onto when the boy had been kept in the darkness of a world too horrible for such innocent, unjaded eyes. Nevertheless, for Mira he was willing to part with it, if only because somehow the idea of keeping that name to himself seemed to produce within her some notion that he was refusing her demand for transparency. That pressing, however, hardly came without a cost.

The man's very nature seemed to have shift, the were-King entirely bristling by that insistence that he provide her with that knowledge she seeked instead of gifting that treasured name to her on his own terms when he was ready to do so. That simper that crossed her features was regarded with little more than sheer apathy as this emerald eyes watched the woman. The sound of his name upon her lips caused his own mouth to twitch downwards in a frown though his emotions themselves hardly shifted further than that agitation that already lingered within him. That insistence that he hadn't need to tell him was met with a snort, after all, the woman had all but demanded it out of him. Still, his gaze turned from her and towards the large window beside them, the man hardly interested terribly in her opinion of how well it did or did not suit him. After all, she hardly knew him in the slightest. What did he care, truly, of her thoughts on that very name his parents had taken such particular care in choosing for their first born son.

It was that inquiry of Frost and why he was so dreadfully interested in that Western pack that finally prompted the man to speak. He was nothing if not through in that story, attempting to provide answers for questions not yet voiced - though whether or not he succeeded was a different story altogether. That end of that rather abbreviated tale was met with a rather simple curse word, one that prompted yet another rise and fall of the man's shoulders in defeat. He knew well by now that despite all the man had endured, despite all that he had done for his sibling, that in the end he was going to wind up in that role of villain - at least in her eyes. It was an inevitability he was slowly coming to terms with, even if it still had a way of provoking a sort of despondent anger within him. His head shook slowly as the female across from him informed him that which he had come to discover on his own - you really couldn't stand in the way of a woman who made up her mind. It was a shame, really, that Nadya had done so on that initial meeting of the Norwegian man. That playful notion to kidnap his sister, however, was met with little more than a sigh, his emerald eyes turned once again towards the window. "I know...I just thought..." His voice became altogether soft, as he finally admitted the heart of that very hurt. Those words were ones he had dared not speak to anyone before now. "I just thought she would have chosen her best friend and me over a man she hardly knows. Clearly I was wrong." And that was what hurt the most -- that in the end he had meant nothing to her. In the end, Samantha, whom she claimed was her best friend, meant nothing to her.

His lips pressed together in a frown, those thoughts dwindling with an increased intensity to places he hardly wished them to visit whilst still in the eye of the public. He knew he had to see his sister, he was dreading that conversation, the final piece of the puzzle would fall into place and she would deny him as she always did in favor of that man. Still, with Mira here, a person he too hardly knew, he had little need to reveal more of that turmoil of his innermost feelings. Instead, Tetradore commented simply on that vehicle, his emerald eyes refocusing upon her frame as he tried to shove those emotions that so perturbed him far down deep. It was an act he had far too much practice in as that facade of indifference crossed his features again. He was hardly surprised when, moments later, those suspicions were confirmed, the story that fell from her lips was hardly astonishing to the man in any regards. It was the life of many here, hell, it was the life of himself. They were always running away from something - from a hard past they often did not want to tell. Those puzzle pieces of her peculiar demeanor slowly began to fall into place and yet, Tetradore offered the woman no words as she weaved her own tale. His head only slightly bobbed as she continued on, already knowing exactly where this was going.

At least - until she insisted that she was putting him in danger. That simple insistence caused a laugh to leave his lips, his head shaking from side to side. "Your story is hardly knew to Mira. I've dealt with far worse than him who have committed sins greater than his. You'll be fine here and if he comes, I will deal with him. He is, after all, mere mortal. Consider yourself lucky in that. I sure as hell wasn't." It was perhaps not the greatest of reassurance and yet, he was not necessarily a particularly cheerful man to begin with. Rather, it was the notion of the poison in her head that made the man raise, collection both of their plates and utensils. "You should get some rest, I'll come by next week or so and check up on you if you're still here. There's keys to the place by the door." He made his way towards the kitchen, placing those dishes in the sink for her to clean later. After all, Tetradore himself had never done a single chore in his adult life, as Risque's favored pet, such things as chores had all been beneath him. None since had ever dares to comment on it, much less scold him for such demeanor. "Sleep well." He commented after himself, the man simply disappearing from the confines of that kitchen to leave the young woman to her own devices.