Athena always supposed that, even if she wasn't a siren, her childhood could have never been normal to begin with. Her mother had been a Parisian prostitute, after all, and though she could say she'd grown up in some of the greatest cities in the world, she was from the underbelly and she knew it. And, thanks to her mother's murder, she'd never be able to go back to Paris again. Sometimes Athena dreamed about it, in the myriad of nightmares that kept her up at all hours, dreams mixed with her memories. But she pushed through, like she always had, and Sierra was the only one who knew how much that haunted her.
Oh yes, Carter was a friend. One of the very few male friends Athena had over the years, as a matter of fact. He was a good soul, and he fought the good fight, and he didn't take advantage of her - or other women - when others had seen the opportunity to. Plus, he had the same views about justice that she did. It made him an ally, professionally and personally, and she was glad to see he was mostly well. If her time in Scarlet Oak had been any indication thus far, neither of them would want for work at any point in the near future.
For the record, Athena was almost never out for sympathy or reassurance. At least, not from anyone who wasn't her sister, or perhaps Halne, but even then Athena wouldn't ask that much of the other woman if she didn't have to. She'd lived on her own for so long now that it was hard to reach out to anyone else, and everyone was probably better off if she didn't. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Carter, and seeing him wince when she bumped his shoulder, it seemed that she had. One eyebrow quirked up in a hint of concern. "A vampire hunter?" she asked. "Anyone we're going to need to take care of?" She'd help, of course, if he needed it. Unless it was a woman.