It was just after six thirty in the evening that Dorian so found himself upon those all-too cold streets, his form huddled further into that jacket, the Fae King so content to bemoan that fact that he had insisted to Sebastian that one light jacket was surely enough and that he had hardly needed more despite his lovers protest that he did. The vampire had been right, he realised and yet it was perhaps far too late to do anything about it now. Dorian merely content to grumble slightly and internally. After all, it would be of decidedly poor manner to appear displeased about anything when in the company of another, even if that other had known him far longer than any other being. His silver gaze lifted briefly to Matteo then. The older, slightly taller Fae striding effortlessly beside him as he led the way further downtown. He had hardly expected the appearance of the Frenchman and yet Matteo was very rarely expected by anyone at any time, Dorian hardly displeased all the same. He owed a very great deal to the man after all and even despite the fellows often obscure nature Dorian was both fond of him and his company- even if he so presently failed to understand where they were going and why Sebastian had been left at home with that ever-growing pile of mail his lover had taken dutifully to answering.

Dorian had seen the elder Fae but a handful of times since he had left that palace in Naples, the Fae King so having come to realise that for all the years he had known Matteo he knew decidedly little about him and it was perhaps for that ever-present curiosity that Dorian had so agreed to accompany him this evening. Their walk so far had been fairly silent and yet it was hardly an uncomfortable silence in any sense, it was merely so that Matteo was perhaps the sort of being uninclined to speak, as others did, of idle nonsense if only to fill the silence, Dorian perhaps given to the same ilk on some occasions, both men content with their own thoughts before Matteo finally rounded yet another corner to a quiet street so adorned with brightly lit shop fronts. Dorian quite assured he had not yet been here before. Even for all those months he had been free off his once-prison there was still something so gloriously enchanting about those lights and the way they danced. Ah, but the marvels of modern technology! A simper tugged at his lips all the same, the man half inclined to wonder if he might be able to paint such a scene, those street lamps casting an almost ethereal glow into that darkness that the Monarch find entirely curious. Dorian so distracted by his own thoughts that he near walked into Matteo entirely, the other man having come to a stop outside what appeared to be a café of sorts- Sebastian so having taught him that word some months ago. His silver gaze glanced upwards, eyeing the shop name before gesturing briefly to that sign within the door.

"I fear it might be closed."

He offered softly, his gaze drawn inquisitively upward once more, entirely curious as to why Matteo had marched them both through the darkness to merely look at a closed shop. He had never so much as seen the other man sip at a glass of water let alone desire an actual pastry- his thoughts abruptly ceased as Matteo merely snorted softly, fixing him with a grin Dorian had decided appeared almost impish in a fashion before the Frenchman merely extended one hand to rest lightly on the door handle, something muttered softly beneath his breath, before that door proceeded to unlock itself, swinging gently open a mere second later as Dorian merely felt his eyes widen slightly. That look of momentary awe relaced with something almost akin to wariness.

"Matteo, are you quite assured we are not breaking in? I should not like to be arrested this evening."

His concerns were met with little more than a wave of Matteo's hand, Dorian sighing softly before following the man into that café, shutting the door behind him, the warmth of it entirely pleasant and yet even that was forgotten in the wake of the Monarchs realisation of just what seemed to surround them. That café was veritably filled to bursting with antiques of all sorts, the silver of his gaze widening once more as a grin of delight seemed to find his features. He recognised but a handful of those artefacts, several swords and other weapons common within his own time, the sort of which he had failed to see outside his own palace and yet, surrounding them was a plethora of objects he had never seen before. Dorian so rarely in the presence of anything older then himself. Matteo had been all but forgotten, Dorian so reaching up to allow his fingers to trace against the surface of a shield so old he could barely make out that insignia upon it. He will get upset if he sees you touching that. The Monarchs hand withdrew almost instantly, his gaze returned to Matteo then, the Fae having folded one leg over the other as he lent back against the nearest table.

"Whom exactly are we here to see? I should like to ask him about these, they are glorious!"
You recall the friend I mentioned when we were in Naples? This is his home. I think it is about time I introduced you.
"Is he aware we are calling upon him this evening?"
He will be once I inform him. I will return shortly.

Any further queries Dorian so held upon this man they had come to visit were abruptly ended as Matteo so suddenly disappeared from view entirely, leaving the Monarch within the shop below only to reappear within those cosy living quarters above. His form settled almost laconically into that spare armchair opposite the one Alexander himself was nestled within after what was surely a long day, Matteo reaching towards that side table to lift that still-warm cup of coffee from it. The Frenchman assured it had been placed there for him all the same, Alexander often seeming to almost anticipate his arrival on some evenings. The hunter barely appearing to glance up from his book at his sudden appearance and why should he? Had they not played this game for centuries? Matteo hardly hurried in turn as he took a single sip of that coffee, savouring it, one finger idly tracing the rim before those accented lyrics finally touched the air. It would seem, my friend, that the day is finally upon us. It was a decidedly cryptic sentence, Matteo so enjoying those subtle nuances of mystery that afflicted his lyrics, that touch of amusement dancing upon his lips as he raised that coffee cup once more. The Frenchman so eternally appearing as if he played a game to which only he knew the rules and yet Alexander had likely become used to such things by now. If ever a being had existed whom was determined to write his own fate, after all, then surely it was the Hunter in the opposite armchair before him. Matteo long having admired him for that determined trait. Do you recall that conversation we had within the Caribbean some centuries ago when we lay upon the deck of that god-awful ship we had commandeered and we were far too drunk to stand? Alexander forgot nothing. Even when he so pretended to- of that Matteo remained assured. You told me that if I ever got my son out of that god forsaken palace that you'd gladly meet with him, if only to clear his head of the nonsense I had surely filled it with.

His lip twitched just so in amusement. Such a conversation having occurred after Matteo had convinced several of the younger members of the ship's crew that mermaids were real and seawater was drinkable. Alexander having questioned his skills as a parent. Matteo curious as to whether or not his companion had so seen as to where this conversation inevitably led. The ancient Fae pausing to lift his sunglasses from his slate-hued gaze and rest them atop his dark hair, unconcerned with what Alexander might see within his eyes. They had seen the world thrice over, after all. Had they not seen it all? I need return to the French Embassy for a half hour or so, it is finally your chance to babysit after all these years. My son is below in your shop. Be nice, Alex. I'd have told you I was bringing him, but you would have said no. I am constantly forced to surprise you. Such a meeting was perhaps far more important than Matteo should ever care to admit, a meeting he had waited centuries for all the same, after all, what man did not desire to show his son to his oldest of companions? It was a matter of pride, if nothing else. Do not give me that look, you have been affording it to me for a thousand years and it still does not work upon me. You best hurry down, he is touching all of your things. I will be back in a half hour or so. That soft chuckle rolled within his own throat, Matteo abruptly evaporating, leaving that cup of coffee hovering in mid-air for several minutes, just enough to force Alex to leave his chair in an effort to grasp it before it fell. The ancient Fae appearing but once more beside Dorian, handing the younger man a small piece of paper before evaporating again.

For several moments Dorian merely stared into what remained of that space, his gaze returned to that paper now, several things neatly printed upon that page beneath the heading 'Things not to mention to Alexander'. Hephaestion, Bucephalus, Genghis Khan, Ghandi, Xerxes and The Mighty Quinn- given enough alcohol he will sing it in its entirety. It was fortunate, perhaps, that Dorian so hardly knew what any of those things were to begin with, his gaze turned almost expectantly towards the sound of someone coming down. This, he was assured, was the last time he so allowed Matteo to bring him anywhere.

Dorian Aragona