Suspicion is a funny thing. It always tends to go hand in hand with paranoia and Vhal learned very early in life to accept those emotions as constant companions. The woman would have a target on her back for as long as she was an assassin, it seemed to her that she would never be able to pay off her debt. Charges always managed to be snuck in there, breaking her sleek black suit, not completing a job on time, and don't forget, room and board when she was too far from her own home to make it back after an exhausting task. Vhalla was always looking over her shoulder but for very different reasons than the fae who stood before her. She learned quickly to not make mistakes and to not leave any traces of her behind at a murder scene, the witch had far too many close calls in being caught, while taking more lives than needed.

So, as Vhalla gazes stonily at the faerie before her, suspicion grows in her belly darkly. She was unaware how long the woman had been following her, the fae could very well have seen her climb from the window of her master's bidding. Again, that disappointment in herself claws back to the surface, Vhalla should not have been so careless, perhaps she should have shimmied from roof to roof back to her home rather than taking a stroll to cool down. Stifling the emotions that began to rise, the assassin takes another look at the woman's attire.

She was far too well dressed to belong to this side of town, but the witch couldn't imagine why she would lie about it, other than to protect herself. Vhalla was certain the faerie could defend herself if need be. The white haired woman was no fool, she had met several faeries in her career, some who hired her, others who she was hired to kill. They were not as easy to dispose of as you might think, all pretty petite things were quite deceiving. Suddenly, the woman studied the stranger, comparing the two of them. They looked rather similar facial structure wise but other than that the two could not be more opposite. While the faerie was petite and innocent, Vhalla was tall, lean, dangerous, imposing if you will.

Suddenly conscious of her blood splattered hair, she casually brushes it behind her shoulder, in an attempt to hide it before replying, "I don't normally take the streets," she responds vaguely. Of course, the fae wouldn't know she typically races from roof top to roof top, staying out of sight. Shrugging as if it were perfectly normal. With her next words, Vhalla was pleasantly surprised at the fangs the stranger showed and before you know it, the assassin is laughing. A full bodied laugh echoing off the abandoned walls. Doubling over to catch her breath, she eventually stands wiping her eyes and offering the woman a genuine grin, not that predatory smile, but a toothy grin full of straight white teeth.

"On the contrary, I do love a good game of cat and mouse," Vhalla says breathlessly recovering from her laugh and referring to the harm it would do the assassin. "However, I decided I like you," she pauses briefly crossing her arms, "you're a feisty little thing, aren't you?" She asks her rhetorical question with amusement glinting in her electric blue eyes. "A word of advice, Samantha Cassidy, as a new monarch I recommend not wandering any street alone at night, even if it is your territory. There are things that go bump in the night," Vhalla recalls the name she had heard recently in hushed whispers around the West. A new faerie queen.

Sam didn't quite fit the description, she didn't look like she had a commanding bone in her body. Smiling sheepishly, Vhalla relaxes her stance, suddenly sure that this woman had not seen her climb from a window away from the crime scene she committed. The assassin was certain it would have been mentioned before hand. So, she casually brushes it off, "Where are
you headed?"