Nikita didn't make it a habit of admiring others. To do that meant that there was something about them that you were lacking yourself. It may have just been that during the past couple of weeks Nikita's personal life had managed to trickle into her business life and that was wholly unacceptable to her, but here was Kiara, nothing but calm, cool, and collected every single time she had ever been in her presence to handle her affairs. Had she not feared admitting how out of hands her life had become, Nikita would have asked the redhead what her secret was. She smiled in response to Kiara's statement regarding her lack of crutches. All too often she forgot what it was like to be without a natural healing ability. It had taken her a few years after her turn to learn that she didn't have to flinch every time a gun went off. Since then, there had been more times than she could count on both hands where she had dove into a fray head first, forgetting to protect herself completely. In any case, it was rare that anyone carried bullets that were made purely of silver. "I can't imagine that that was entirely good for business. Please tell me you ended the life of the thing that put you in them."
At Kiara's statement of preference, Nikita made a nod toward the male vampire that had followed them into the office. It felt unnatural to look up and not see Annie there, waiting for orders expectantly, and she didn't care for it one bit at all. The thought flickered through her head that perhaps a bit of vampire blood would help her secretary heal faster and get back to work, and whether or not she would actually accept such a gift. She decided to leave well enough alone and allow the human to heal in her own good time, but if forced to wait too long for her return, Nikita knew she would be none to happy about it. Her hand went up to her necklace and she resisted the urge to play with it, suddenly self-conscious about her choice of outfit. Dressing down was not a habit that she indulged in often, if ever. She had a closet full of designer clothing and it was her job to look her best, but there didn't seem much point in dolling herself up when she planned on being in no one's company but Silvia's today. Now that that had changed, Nikita wished she had run upstairs to change her clothes or at least thought to throw on a glamour before opening the door; it would be incredibly foolish to do so now. "I was spending the day with my daughter," she said in explanation toward her diurnal activities. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel a great deal weaker and lethargic for being up since the sun had risen, but being indoors had helped her keep her energy. "I didn't feel right leaving her alone today." Nikita didn't offer more than that. It wasn't that she was keeping things from Kiara; if the siren wanted to know, she would answer honestly. Nikita simply didn't feel like it was important to bring up yesterdays' event at the bridge. She was not a bleeding heart that wept or mourned for those that had died in the explosion. The women she cared about -- of which she was only acknowledging that there had been two of -- were safe and alive: that was all that mattered to her. The man, whose name Nikita could not remember, returned with a tall chilled glass full of the dark colored beer and handed it directly to Kiara before he returned to his place on the other side of the door. "I suppose it is for the best if I only buy fae-blooded this time around." Again, Nikita left the statement open, suggesting that there was more of a story than she was leading on. She wasn't entire anxious to tell Kiara what had happened to her after drinking the siren blood, but there was a insistent voice in her mind that urged her to open up to the redhead -- nevermind the fact that she was hardly the warmest creature that Nikita had ever crossed paths with.