That white paper bag dangled from his fingertips as the Were-King bit into that peanut butter cookie within his hand. It was the perfect chewy consistency, soft in the middle and condensed ever just so, the heat still warming it just enough that it was just slightly still doughy - as the best cookies so often were when fresh from the oven. Admittedly, Tetradore had taken quite a liking to the bakery in the Eastside, Taliah more than content to push those sweets upon him and, in turn, he was equally as willing to take them. His shoes echoed against the wooden floors of the Ark as he stepped into the main hull - the cargo ship all but quiet as the staff begun to prepare for the night's festivities in the same manner they did every evening. Tetradore paused over the threshold of his empire, his gaze briefly swept over that empty ring, over the platform he so often occupied, over the neatly placed tables and chairs with their dents and dings, and, finally, over the bar itself - stocked with all manners of liquor tucked against the wall. How far he'd come from the homeless penniless man he once had been, even if his acquisition of the Ark and all that accompanied it was largely hostile. Still - there was something distinctly...satisfying about the tranquility of those hours before the fights, a sort of strange peacefully so invading the usually stoic Alpha as he crossed the room towards the singular individual that presently occupied the bar. Carolina, wasn't it?

She was Raven's charity case, his best friend's wife all but determined to ensure the young woman had a second chance...and yet, even Tetradore had to admit she had been true to her word. She assisted with the bar, handled the food from the kitchen, took care of their patrons and, thus far, he had received strikingly few complaints of her. Quite on the contrary, several of the weres that so frequented the Ark had even spoken highly of her, the young woman apparently quite the desirable commodity. Tetradore was willing to admit that he was wrong about her - or maybe he was right and she just wanted this job enough to remain a loyal employee. Either way, he scarcely had a reason to offer her that same gruff exterior he had when she had come seeking employment, the young woman clearly finding her place amongst his ranks.

"Carolina." Her name was uttered softly upon his lips as Tetradore slid in a bar stool in front of her, that bag placed upon the bar between them. "Can you....hide this somewhere? I dunno like...up on the top shelf or under the sink or something. Tobias eats all the fucking cookies before I can ever get a second one." He lamented, his cheek leaning against the palm of his hand as he watched her, those thoughts veiled behind his striking emerald eyes. "You can have some if you want - there's some chocolate chip and peanut butter and...snickerdoodle.....and I think she threw in a few sugar cookies. Maybe I should get a safe just for cookies...." The Were-King continued, clearly musing on the idea as his gaze skirted over the state of the bar and the glasses Carolina had clearly been cleaning before his own interruption. She was...tending to things well. Really, Tetradore certainly found little fault with the girl, at least, beyond her initial dismissing of him all those months ago. "So....how are you finding things here with Mira and Raven?" Mira, after all, had taken just as much of an invested interest within the bar, far more than Raven had. Frankly, Tetradore suspected Carolina spent more time alongside the Hispanic woman than the werewolf that had initially fought so valiantly for her employment. The Were-King was, admittedly, inquisitive as to how the three women were so getting along.