It was hard for humans to stare at the woman, perhaps; but Peter wasn't exactly human. He wasn't an unthinking killer, but there was enough blood on his hands, enough experience with upir in his recent past, that he didn't feel the need to be particularly careful. This one seemed far more self-aware than Roman had - whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
Peter began examining the blades more carefully, though he didn't touch, not yet. They had obviously been longer once; years of sharpening shortening the blade, shifting the balance of the blade closer to the hilt. That alone spoke to their age. The fact they'd been made for her...it was far more telling than perhaps she intended.
Then again, perhaps not. The tattoo was exposed carefully, too intentionally to be a mistake. He nodded, simply, smiling a little. Yeah. That explained a lot. He wanted to ask how she had become upir, if she had been born that way, like Roman, or if it had been pressed upon her. He knew of both, though he'd met only the inherited kind. But questions...well they worked both ways. And he wasn't ready to answer any questions right now, not even from another gypsy.
He reached out for an apple, grimacing as he felt the pull around his ribs, metallic taste rising in his throat as he fought the urge to heave. Fuck, he hated this part. Bad enough when he was this vulnerable around Destiny; it was ten times worse around a stranger. ------------ Phaedra knew exactly what she had revealed; she felt it only fair since she'd witnessed him turning into a wolf. Now almost everything was on that table between them with her blades.
She saw his smile, and though she didn't return it, it warmed her insides.... Perhaps more than she was prepared for. She wasn't reaching for his mind yet, but she could tell he'd understood something of her age and what she was.
The pain on his face wasn't entirely unexpected. Phaedra's expression softened slightly and she slid the food closer to him so he wouldn't have to reach again. She wasn't going to judge him for it, but she did need to know how long this had been going on.
"How many times have you turned without the moon?" Her eyebrow arched. He wouldn't yet be ready to hear about everyone else here, that they looked out for each other, that it mattered. The progression mattered.
She paused.
"And what do I call you besides 'wolf'?"
She slid a hand to her hip and removed a flask, then slid the flask to him. Only then did Phaedra smile, but it was a playful one, a teasing one that made her look very much like the girl she had been.