Freyja had contacted her building manager the first day she'd been with Freyr to ask him if he would feed her cat for a couple days, promising she was looking for someone to do it properly but that a family emergency had come up. She had barely finished explaining before he agreed to feed Honkers for as long as she needed. He tried to insist on not taking payment for it, but Freyja insisted harder, and Freyja was as willful as she was beautiful. Few humans could stand up to both of those traits working against them. A soft glance from Freyja had made the most hardened of warriors ready to give up their life and lands for an ounce of her attentions.
And so Honkers was being looked after like the king he believed himself to be, and Freyja's only real worry was that he would get spoiled. But the last thing she'd done with Honkers had been to feed him strips of salmon from her hand, so the 'spoiled' boat had probably sailed.
When Freyr told her that this Friar Tuck was coming around - Freyja had only the most passing knowledge of English folklore - she told him to sit and relax and that she wanted to be the first to greet him. She didn't need to tell Freyr in actual words that she wanted to check out if he seemed dangerous before leaving him alone with her brother. He'd just been through something traumatic, and all Freyja wanted to do was make it better, in any way she could.
And so she answered the door to her brother's apartment and gave a warm smile to the man there, wanting to believe the best (but prepared, with knife in her boot, for the worst.)
"Halló," she greeted him in her melodic accent, suggestive of the lands of the Norse but not directly from any one place. "You must be Friar Tuck. I'm Freyja, Freyr's sister."