Samantha's biggest downfall, perhaps, was in the way that she absolutely never anticipated that anyone might have any interest in hurting her. No, she was entirely too trusting, entirely too willing to think the best in people. Frost's warnings to her about the girls that had changed her had gone to her head, of course, and the woman was all the more willing to be careful when she was out and about. It was why she could barely walk ten feet without checking over her shoulder, or how the slightest noise or influx of emotions caused her to pause, weighing whether or not she needed to react to a threat.

But the woman that stood not fifteen feet in front of her hardly felt like a threat. Her emotions were angry, self-loathing, upset. They were sharp in a way that Samantha was unfamiliar with. No, certainly not faeries. No reason to be afraid. Besides, she was in the West district. The local supernaturals knew who she was. She was Aiden Tetradore's girlfriend, and this was Nightshade territory. The Weres she ran into often on her walk home would nod at her, leave her alone, even if she'd never met them. Somehow, the fae queen had earned herself respect simply by who she had chosen as her lover. But this woman was not a Were, and she didn't seem in place in the Western district. It was with that in mind that Samantha called out to her, wondering what it was that the woman was doing here.

She felt the surprise that the woman felt at the sound of her voice, immediately causing her to flinch back a step as the woman spun, producing a blade that was pointed directly at Samantha. She was a far enough distance away from the other woman that she didn't put her hands up, didn't react other than to eye the blade carefully. After all, it was hardly that that was her biggest concern, it was the fire that seemed to want to erupt from the tips of the woman's fingers, and the fear that the white-haired woman felt in response to it. Ah, so she couldn't control her powers, then. It was a feeling that Samantha herself knew well. After all, she was still finding glitter from her power in Aiden's bed, despite the numerous attempts at washing the sheets. Every time she'd kiss him and run her hands through those girls, gold glitter would rain down on them, though she knew better than to mention it.

"Easy," Samantha spoke gently, resisting the urge for now to reach out with her newest power to soothe the woman. She knew she could influence the emotions of the woman if she so chose, but no, she wouldn't attempt it. It felt wrong, even if it would be used to protect herself. No, she would only do that if she had to. For now, though, she drew the nervousness and fear she felt around her like a cloak the way she'd practiced, hardly surprised by now as the small blade formed in her own hand. It had taken lots of practice to get her power right, and even understand what it was for. Initially, it had seemed to only produce random objects or reactions as she experienced emotions. It was only after hours of practice did she realize she could use it to protect herself. Her fear could produce weapons or shields. Her happiness... well, that was one she couldn't find a use for yet. She was still producing random bubbles if she got too excited. Ah, yes, she was so fierce.

For now, she held the blade at her side, determined she would only use it if necessary. This girl didn't want to hurt her, of that she kept reassuring herself. Samantha didn't move as the woman calmed herself, seeming to settle her powers back down as she steadied her breathing. It was only then did she sheathe the blade, and Samantha allowed her own weapon to fade once again into nonexistence. Still, she kept those emotions close to her like a security blanket, ready to protect herself should the need arise. The sarcasm that the woman displayed in her reply was responded to with only a small smirk from the blonde fae.

"I do it all the time, actually. Though I've never seen you around here before," She replied, watching as the girl looked her over. Yes, she was sure she looked entirely out of place in the designer clothes she wore. Her tight jeans and boots cost more than she made in a week â€" a present from the shopping trip she'd made at Aiden's insistence â€" and the simple tank top she wore still cost a pretty penny. She looked expensive, she was sure, and while that fit in perfectly as the manager at the burlesque, it was anything but in this neighborhood.

Still, the fae's eyes narrowed at the predatory grin that the other woman afforded her with, the use of her species meant to be demeaning, she was sure. Ah, yes, the other supernatural sometimes thought the fae were weak, nothing more than devious tricksters. But Samantha was no ordinary faerie. She was a Queen now, the head of the local monarchy and the one who governed over the local fae. There were only a few people that had explicitly pledged loyalty to her, though Samantha knew from the reactions of the girls at the burlesque that the title alone was enough to warrant her power and respect. Even those who had tormented her and teased her didn't dare talk down to her now. No, she was powerful, and she was certainly not going to be harmed by this girl, even with her knives.

"I am perfectly safe," Samantha replied coolly, refusing to allow the woman to intimidate her. Or at least, she refused to show that she was intimidated. Her paranoia was enough to cause some level of fear, even though this woman was certainly not working for the girls that were after her. No, those girls were enough on their own, they didn't need anyone else. Of that she was sure. Still, Samantha was nervous of any stranger, even if she didn't show it. "I'm afraid you're in my territory. Trust me, harming a faerie queen will hurt you more than it will hurt me."