A soft breath left the Were-King's lips as he stood in the doorway of his bathroom. The brilliance of his emerald irises stared down at the slender, caramel physique that laid in such a grotesque manner upon the floor underfoot. Her blood coated his bathroom, staining the once ivory grout between the dark grey tiles an awful shade of crimson. For a long moment, he simply stared at that feminine body he knew so well. Mira. His Mira. Slowly, his lashes fluttered close as he reminded himself that it wasn't real. It was nothing more than a by-product of the vampiric venom that had run rampant through his system for the greater part of the hour - the mark of his mistress' fangs was still imprinted clearly upon his skin. His eyes opened as Tetradore carefully stepped over her body, the man reaching for the knob of his shower. A flick of his wrist was all that was necessary to coax that waterfall of warmth from the showerhead. Slowly, he peeled off those layers of clothing, his own masculine figure all but sore from remaining chained in the same position for far too long. Risque was nothing of not utterly demanding, the woman content to use her pets in any way she saw fit regardless of the discomfort it might have brought them in turn. Eagerly, Tetradore stepped into the warm embrace of the water, letting the steam from the sheer heat of his shower obscure the glass windows - blocking out the world and those residual hallucinations that plagued his waking mind. His features turned up towards the water, the man washing away the dirt, grime, and blood that coated his frame from yet another prolonged stay within Syn.

It was sometime later that Tetradore finally stepped from that shower, the water still coating his exotically colored skin as he wrapped himself in the plush comfort of a towel. The sight of Mira had finally faded from his view, leaving the Alpha blissfully alone within his bathroom. That venom, it seemed, had finally wrecked its havoc and left the man alone to his devices. Thank fucking God. Slowly, the Alpha meandered from the warmth of his bathroom, the very opening of that door prompting almost visible steam to follow in his wake and yet, with the still silence of his bedroom, there was hardly anyone to notice him. He could hear the dull thud of the bass of the Ark's sound system through those thick layers of steel, promising him the fights were already well underway within the hull of the ship. It was rare, these days, when Tetradore was present at those fights - Tobias often more than willing to pick up the missing Alpha's slack. Tonight was hardly any different, the man altogether certain that somewhere downstairs within that rabble was the slinking leopard, all but reveling within the chaos. As for the Alpha himself....he had distinctly little desire to do anything more than curl up within Mira's bed. How he found himself desiring that assurance that she was alive and well, even if such needs would surely never leave his lips.

It was only the sound of something occurring within the hallway outside of his bedroom that prompted the Were-King to pause, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly and yet, he had little desire to intervene. Rather, Tetradore meandered towards his closet, the Alpha reaching for a loose pair of cotton pajama pants that hung lowly upon his hips. He had only just reached for an oversized hoodie that should provide the Alpha both warmth and cloth to hide within when a rapt knock at his bedroom door caused him to peak his head out of his closet. A frown crossed his lips at that overly cheerful voice - the sound of which he all but struggled to place. God, why couldn't they just...leave him the fuck alone? Another soft sigh left his lips as he pulled the hoodie onto his bare chest, the Alpha carefully flipping up the hood if only to ensure that bite mark was buried within the dark folds of the fabric. A yawn crossed his lip as Tetradore meandered towards the door, the Alpha entirely content to take his time before he finally pulled open the door of his bedroom. For a moment, he simply stared the face of the woman on the other side of the door, his brain almost slow to register where he knew her from. Askaree. It had been...how long now since he'd last seen the Egyptian? Though that glimpse of recognition fluttered within the depths of his emerald irises his features remained little more than a perfectly poised glimpse of complete and utter indifference.

Tetradore waited until her little charade was finished, the Were-King hardly thrilled at her return. Oh no, he knew what this meant, much less what it was most certainly about. "I'm not turning the music down." He answered, the low rumble of his baritone voice entirely deadpan. It was, after all, that point of contention the two had met on before - one that had persisted for some time after and surely still did now. Though he knew the sensitivity of the were woman's reptilian form, Tetradore had little intention to impede upon his business for the sake of one woman.