It was something Vhalla had yet to figure out why she was so protective of the faerie queen or she simply just wasn't ready to admit it to herself yet. Sam represented something she had lost long ago. Hope. So when this woman cracks the lock and enters rather loudly, the assassin's blood surged with a protectiveness the witch was not accustomed to. She was, however, very disappointed at how poorly the girl did at entering the home. The assassin could teach the were a thing or two about breaking and entering but clearly the stranger wasn't here for pleasantries. It had occurred to Vhal that the woman didn't seem interested in stealing anything, she seemed to be simply snooping.

She was impressed at how quickly the woman schooled her features into a neutral expression to hide the fear at the knife embedded in the wall. What she didn't expect was the stranger to fire back a verbal spar. Arching a brow delicately, she grins devilishly flipping a knife in her hand by the handle and again catching it by the handle. Pushing off the counter she pads closer, barefoot and white hair billowing out behind her. Grinning like mad she pauses so that the couch is separating the two, "You'd be amazed at the things I can do with a knife," she responds with maniac glee. Yes, there were things Sam did not and would not ever know about the assassin. She had done her fair share of dirty work at the request of others.

"Either you're a fool or..." she trails off with a sigh and shrugs her shoulders, "No, you truly are stupid if you aren't running away yet," she replies airily. Vhalla could see it in the were's eyes, the woman wasn't a killer and by her stance with her crossed arms she probably couldn't fight, let alone defend herself from the lithe witch. Although, she did have to give the woman props for her quick thinking as she glanced around the room and locked her eyes onto one of the faerie's she had met last night in a picture. Dorian. Vhal wasn't ignorant though, the hesitation and the clear trespassing that was happening before her blue eyes was enough to have Vhalla stepping closer until her legs are brushing the couch and she lets her hand hang loosely at her side as she grips the additional steak knife.

"You're a terrible liar," Vhal states as a dark expression ebbs across her features. Then, she's throwing another steak knife embedding it on the opposite side of the woman's head, this time brushing the hair surrounding her head with another thud. If she had been using her knives she was certain the assassin would have sliced strands of her hair. Again that fiendish glee creeps back onto her face in a form of a smile as she toys with the last knife in her hand, casually brushing the tip of the blade. "You have one sentence to convince me to not kill you, better start talking."