Tetradore settled upon the bed beside the young woman, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched her with a hint of concern upon his features. There was little he could do to help her and yet, the man had been content enough to assist in those few ways he was capable. In those moments of her unconsciousness, the were King made an effort to clean not only that blood from her shoulder but too any remains of his saliva upon her flesh. He was all too aware of the anger of that skin and yet, that skill he was so capable of seemed particularly devastating against her kind, when healing was not a natural option. He should have been capable of anticipating the girl's sudden appearance, he should have been able to move faster. He should have killed that vampire there upon the spot - hell, Tetradore should have done many things and yet, he simply had not. It was an all too familiar scenario, one he'd never thought he'd find himself within again. His own emerald eyes stared harshly at the door frame of her bedroom, his thoughts quite clearly elsewhere and yet the man scarcely moved until a panting sound drew his attention. He watched on in silence as she suffered through that pain, her words broken when she finally did speak and yet, that question she so sought from him was answered without a single syllable, his shoulder's instead shrugging. It was hardly informative and yet, even he disliked admitting that, perhaps, he didn't hate the woman after all.

It was that request, and the beeching that followed in its wake that drew his lips into a hard line, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. He could feel his affinity stir to life unconsciously within him, so yearning to reach out to that fear, aching to turn it into downright terror and yet, it was a feral sensation he was quick to repress, even as she spoke the name of that soul he'd only just met. In truth, Tetradore had little notion of what horrors she had faced within that vampire's hands, much less this very bed and, gingerly, his hand brushed across that plush ivory blanket in consideration. The man knew well the terrors of torture. He knew what it was like to have his memories imprinted upon one singular place and yet, this fear she felt was never something that had graced him, not to this extent. He had suffered much within hi mistress' bedroom. She'd chained that feline to the bed with silver all to utilize him as a footrest. She'd forced him to relive the death of his family within his mind time and time again whilst she ravaged his body, even it betraying him whilst he so pleased her. He knew well the recollections beds could bring and yet, he made no movement to pick her up from the depths of those plush sheets.

"I think..." He started softly, those emerald eyes slowly glancing up at her. "That we should make new memories within this bed." It was a simple statement, and yet one he intended to actually do something about. He wanted to offer her a singular good moment within those sheets, the man prompted to move, leaning forward to close that distance between her, his emerald eyes all too intent upon her, searching for even the slightest sign of her discomfort at his presence. Gingerly, his lips met hers in a kiss that was sweet and yet, wholly fleeting, his lips only just gently brushing against her own before he pulled back from her, his eyebrows still furrowed. "You cannot let him ruin your life...and your house...forever." He uttered simply, even if he knew well that, were the roles reversed, he hardly would have regarded that sage advice with anything more than a scoff. He had been so..defeated...and so assured no one would understand...and yet, that was a different life now.

Rather, it was another wave of that pain that caused his gaze to drift back to her fair features, that glimpse of guilt momentarily crossed his own face. His head shook ever so slightly at her assumption, his lips twisting into a frown. "No, it's acid. It can eat through flesh and bone. I suspect it has not been kind to you. I'm sorry." It was the only real acknowledgement that the man would make of his doing, though not from some lofty notion that it was not his fault. He knew it was, rather, he knew dwelling upon it was useless. All he had to offer was to make up for it in the future and those potion bottles she spoke of surely was the first step in doing so. Tetradore made his way across the room and towards that very dresser she'd mentioned, pulling out the drawer only to be confronted with a near plethora of underwear. A hint of surprise crossed his features and yet, he hardly saw fit to comment on it. Rather, his fingers moved with care as he made his way towards that false bottom of the drawer, prying it loose before delicately collecting all the vials within. He brought that small collection back towards the bed, displaying them for the young woman to view and choose as she saw fit.