Hallbjorn was pleased when Kara said that he looked handsome. The man had put in some effort into his appearance for what he could not admit was her sake. He looked at her and found that even with her sleep tousled hair he liked her just as she was. The Berserker suspected that she could roll around in mud, wear nothing but a garbage bag, and he would still find her pleasing to the eye. He watched her drink the blood, and he felt a small bit of pride when the soft groan of delight escaped her lips. He began to eat, thinking that he had done well and that they would have a pleasant breakfast together before heading out again.<br/><br/>When she gave up eating Hallbjorn put down his own utensils and looked over at her. He saw a fang worrying at her lower lip. The frustrated breath came next and soon she was unburdening herself to him. He listened attentively - to him, it was like with her nightmares: she knew<em>who</em>to come to with her worries. To Hallbjorn, that<em>mattered</em>. It pleased him that she did. Perhaps she had gleaned from his story about his brother Helgi that this was a thing that Hallbjorn appreciated. It was of no concern that she had problems. That was how life. She came to him with them. Though, there was no other choice except silence.<br/><br/>"Perhaps. But no one was hurt. You<em>tried</em>to make the storm go away. Other immortals grow up among their own kind and are taught to control their abilities by experienced mentors with decades and centuries of experience. We do not know what you are and what your abilities are. The important thing to take away from this is that you are capable of causing it and capable of stopping it. If it happens again, try another method." Hallbjorn told her, his voice soft and without condemnation. "When you learned to read, did you not struggle with the words?"<br/><br/>Even though he could not see the tears in her eyes, Hallbjorn knew they were there. He hurt at the quavering of her voice. The large man got up from his seat and walked around the table, taking a seat beside Kara, sidling it close to her. He took her in his arms and pulled her to his chest. One arm went low around her back and the other held her face to his chest, the back of his hand cradling her head.<br/><br/>"When you come fully into your immortality, you will be able to learn the difference between a mortal and an immortal. It is not a sense that you yet possess. You fault yourself for something you cannot do. Do not. I do not permit it." The blond man told Kara. Deciding that he wanted her closer, Hallbjorn pulled Kara into his lap, sitting her down there while keeping her close to his chest.<br/><br/>"We can be bad kissers together, Kara." The man told her too. His hand crept to from the back of her head to her nape and he gently rubbed the palm of his hand over that part of her in a slow circle. He let out a slow breath. His big knife was still on the table, and he let his hand leave her nape to grasp the hilt in a large, meaty hand. His other arm shifted so that he could bring it up. Hallbjorn could make a small cut on the inside of his wrist with the very sharp tip of the knife. Blood beaded up and stayed there, crimson pearls against his fair flesh. He set the the big knife down and let his hand return to her body.<br/><br/>"Can you scent this?" The Berserker asked her. He put his cut wrist near her head.