The were-panther could not rightly describe his emotions towards the young vampire settled in front of him, even as his gaze shifted away from her with an overwhelming sensation of guilt. To this day he still blamed himself for her death. If only he had shoed her away in the same fashion he did most individuals - she might still be alive, settled in this very kitchen with the woman whose disappearance she so mourned instead of him. Even now he couldn't help the creeping feeling that he didn't belong within this kitchen, that his presence wasn't welcomed here even though she had been nothing but the epitome of sweet. It was this sweetness, this good nature that had intrigued him in the first place. There was something about the female that managed to draw his attention to her by simply being in the same room. She was a flicking candle light within the darkness of the world he existed within and even now it still fascinated him. Her soft voice tentatively pulls his gaze towards her and briefly he offered her a weak simper.

"Thanks." He commented softly, attempting to show that he did indeed appreciate her sincerity. In truth, Tetradore had spent little time dwelling upon his own appearances. His adolescence had hardly given him the opportunity to fret over his own looks with death constantly at his door in some fashion or another. Now, with himself half drunk (a fact of which he was well aware of), he couldn't help but to become aware of how shitty he was certain that he did look at the current moment. He shifted ever so slightly beneath her gaze, his attention turning back to the bottle nestled within his hands. His intent was to forget everything at the bottom of the bottle. He let the silence fall between them, already regretting his words. There was a soft sigh upon his lips as he eyed the contents of the bottle, his lips pressed together in a soft frown.

Isolt's soft whisper pulled his attention towards her from the bottle cradled in his hands, his emerald gaze briefly meeting the crystalline blue of her eyes. He listened with features of mock indifference though behind the mask he only found himself continuing to dwell within his own misery. "Thank you....that's...sweet of you." He commented softly though weather or not he was willing to admit that truth to himself was another matter entirely. Tetradore firmly believed that he'd known all too well what Risque's demeanor had consisted of. He had known the danger he'd placed her in. Now, he supposed, it hardly mattered at all. Cautiously, he leaned back within his chair, his gaze shifting over the young woman as he began to realize just how little he knew of her. In her presence, Tetradore took such care to ensure his own actions didn't further disrupt her and yet, in truth, he had no inclination of her beyond her taste in booze and her lack of interest in Risque's rather revealing clothing. "I liked..." Tetradore paused just long enough to correct himself, "...like you more then I ever cared to admit," He found himself saying, his words surely prompted by his lack of inhibitions at the current moment, "And yet I still know nothing about you."

His gaze shifted momentarily towards the window, a thought crossing his mind. His inclinations were impromptu at best, hardly expecting to run into the woman on tonight of all possible nights. "At the very least, you should hardly stay cooped up in here tonight, I hear it's supposed to rain next week." He commented in an offhanded manner, rising from the table to gesture lightly towards the door. Quite frankly, Tetradore had no real destination in mind, all that he had considered was that she had limited time with the winter encroaching upon them and at the very least she should hardly spend it at the table with him when a whole world awaited her beyond those four walls. Fortunately for her, that was a sensation he understood far too well. By all appearances, Tetradore might have appeared perfectly human but somewhere deep within him there was a predator that hated cages, one that yearned for freedom the outdoors provided him.