Life in the aftermath of that death was, for the most part, falling back into place for the were King. Although his pack had decreased in size and the absence of his tether to his sibling had not gone unmissed, and Samantha had failed to return to the busy metropolis, his business was booming and his friendship with Tobias was as strong as ever. Those two aspects alone had, perhaps, become the singular most important fact for the were. His territory. His pack. His business. His best friend. Everything, as far as he was concerned, was mostly falling into place. This afternoon, however, was quite the anomaly. That meeting with one of his more finicky had certainly gone awry in a fashion that Tetradore still found himself near unable to fathom. Why so many saw the need to intervene in his affairs, he hadn't the slightest of notion. Still, that Assassin he had such a...particularly strained relationship with had taken it upon herself, at the orders of her overarching vampire overlord, to murder the man that had hired him, leaving the were King with blood money and skulls that were near useless to him. They had been tossed with perhaps far more force than necessary at the young woman and yet, even as he strode into that hallway from the garage with those duffle bags in tow, he couldn't find it within himself to feel guilt for those words he'd spoken to her in anger.

There was no denying that anger that laced his system, the man nearly exuding that agitation in an aura that even saw his staff avoid him. It was rare, really, for that frustration to so get to him in the fashion that it had but Vhalla's involvement had been a slight not only upon his ability to perform that task but also on his reputation. How well did it go amongst the crooks of the underworld if they could not rely upon him to see their goods safely procured and in their hands? Fuck, his clients were going to be weary when the news of this hit those illicit circuits. He tossed those bags onto his desk, pushing aside the papers and envelopes on his desk into a messy pile in the corner as he tore open the zipper to pull out stacks upon stacks of cash. He'd hardly had a moment to truly glance at how much he had managed to recover and yet the number was of significant importance to the man. For all the profits he earned, he still had his fair share of expenses he needed to see too - from bribes to paying employees and seeing to the maintenance of his many properties. Life was not cheap.

He emptied that duffle bag onto his desk, tossing it aside and onto the floor as he moved around, clearly intending to count it and see it sent to it's proper home. Unfortunately, the were-King hardly got quite that far. He settled into his chair only for his foot to touch something....soft. In fact, it was in that moment, when the adrenaline of that awful encounter was slowly starting to fade from his system that the man realized there was a scent that, while new, was not wholly unfamiliar within his office. His eyebrows furrowed as he scooted that rolling chair backwards, that glimpse of confusion settled fully upon his features as the man eyed the form of the sleeping feline beneath his desk. This was....unexpected. A small frown crossed his lips as they pressed together, the man altogether simply eying the feline and the small box nestled between her paws. A soft sigh left his lips, the man surely not prepared for this today and yet, somehow, that feline had gotten past his staff. He was entirely certain that it was not his sibling, her coat was too far black, nor was this cat his own vector, Henry would not have been found sleeping peacefully.

Slowly, the man slid off of his chair, settling before her on his knees as he gingerly reached out, letting his fingers dangle in front of her. It was a simple enough action, one to allow her to scent that smell that coated his frame and, in return, for him to judge her own demeanor before he dared lose a hand at attempting to pet her. "You shouldn't be here." He commented idly, his voice hardly holding any of that anger he'd once felt, instead, more akin to that perfectly placid indifference he had so long ago perfected. "I wonder how you got in. What is it you have there? Is it something for me or did you just take a pit stop here to nap under my desk." Tetradore's head tilted to the side ever so slightly, eying her with a measure of inquisitiveness. After all, it wasn't every day the man returned to his 'home' only to find one of his own species settled under his desk - much less a were he'd never met within his own territory.