Peter stepped into the house hesitantly, his gaze wary as he looked around. It didn't seem like the woman had been here long; either that or she really wasn't into housekeeping. Once she was unarmed, Peter felt comfortable enough to give her his back, padding through the house into the bedroom, pawing open a cupboard door. He let out a huff of relief when he spotted the clothes inside; old, and worn, but it looked like they'd fit.
He was shirtless and barefoot when he walked back through, shrugging a shirt on lazily.
"So...." he said, drawing out the word. He didn't really know where to start; how much he felt comfortable sharing with the upir, pretty as she was. And she was pretty.
"Nice knives," he said instead, nodding towards them. He tugged at the neckline of the shirt, adjusting it on his shoulders as he stepped towards the table, bending over the knives but being careful to keep his hands away from them. Being careful to not seem threatening. ----------------- Somehow, Phaedra had a feeling that the wolf that left the room would come back a person.
She was glad she was right. Much as Phaedra pretended she didn't need to be human in the least, conversing with a wolf was a little one-sided. But that meant something else, too...
While the wolf was out of the room, Phaedra checked what the moon looked like in the sky. It wasn't full. Her heart sank just a little. She knew a thing or two about which moon called the wolf and which didn't, and what happened when one could just become the wolf at will.
When the newcomer came back into the room, Phaedra got a better look at him. He was handsome. Very. Something about the eyes. And he wasn't all that much younger than she was when she was turned. Phaedra had been 23. She would put this boy at 18 or 20.
So...
Phaedra arched a brow, and she pulled a chair out from the wooden table and sat. Her body was still turned toward the wolf, though. She smiled very slightly, both in answer to his open-ended 'so' and because she realized that he'd likely always be 'the wolf' in her mind.
Nice knives.
Her eyes flicked from the blades to the boy's face. If she'd been human, a slight flush may have gone with it.
"Nais tuke". She paused. Why did she think he could understand that. "Thank you."
She pushed the other chair away from the table with her boot. There were a few food items on the table, leftover from Dean spending some time here. Some bread. Some apples.
"Help yourself."
She'd seen something as he was pulling the shirt on, a letter tattooed to his side. And she was curious about it. But she wouldn't ask just yet.