i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

That final ceramic mug was plucked from the depths of that soapy water, the ivory cup afforded one final rinse before it was gingerly handed off to the man at his side. Alexander's fingers reach into that sink, searching purposefully for that plug that kept the water from draining. "Hm?" He inquired briefly, knowing all too well Matteo's ability to carry on that conversation regardless of whether or not he answered in the first place. Those moments of perfect tranquility such as this had been decidedly rare of late, that cafe had turned into a sort of successful monster of it's own, far more than the Macedonian King had ever wished it to be. Even though that work was decidedly beneath him, there was a bizarre sort of satisfaction to be found within it all - in accomplishing that which the world as a whole would have thought impossible for the King if only for that usual demand of respect he required of others. He watched as Matteo dried off the last of those mugs, balancing it with a sort of precariousness that caused the King's eyebrow to twitch ever so slightly. The last thing he wanted to do was to clean ceramic shards off the clean floors. Even so, his blue-green eyes lifted towards his companion's features, that idle comment of those recent elections prompted a soft snort from the man before he turned, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed. "I think you're just jealous because you haven't figured out how I did it....if I did it." He offered with a small shrug, that innocence persisting all the while.

Alexander watched as that final cup was placed amongst the shelf in perfect order with the rest of it's kind. That inquiry of the rest of those mugs prompted a small nod from the Dark Hunter. "Yes, thank God. I hate cleaning." The comment was little more than a mere grumble, the hunter surely missing that life of luxury he had once been afforded, even if it had been sometime since he had held any sort of servants. This was the exact sort of work he paid someone else to do. He followed his companion through that cafe towards those arm chairs the pair tended to occupy before those large windows, the man entirely content to flop within his own, his blue-green eyes turned towards that street in a nearly indifferent fashion. His own gaze easily found that young woman whom Matteo mentioned, her current state of undress prompted a small snort from his nose. "Women these days. I fear they are used to regretting their outfit choices." He commented easily enough, even if he hardly denied his own latest fancy from dressing in whatever made the timid woman feel the epitome of sensual. Clothes, it seemed, rarely caught his interest, he'd seen the fashion industry shift time and time again even before it was ever really an industry to begin with.

That rather sudden bet, however, quickly reigned his wandering thoughts back to the present, one singular eyebrow rose in an almost dubious nature. Matteo's gift had a way of rendering some of those bets as little more as challenges accepted on pure faith. He had ever suspicion the French fae had cheated him many a times before in the past and yet, he had equally won just as many times on those games of chance they equally tended to engage in. Even though he suspected this offer was hardly as genuine as Matteo made it seem, the Hunter was inclined to accept it all the same. "I suppose then, I should offer then Rousseau of that jaguar you like." He commented with a soft sigh. Truthfully, he had never quite figured out why Matteo had taken such an interest in that bizarre painting of that horse and cat, the masterpiece hardly as breathtaking as some of that art he had acquired and yet, it made for a good bargaining piece all the same. Alexander slumped ever so slightly in that chair, entirely willing to engage his companion whilst the pair waited for those children to make their appearance in that warm, homey little cafe.

It wasn't until some time later that the little bell attached to that front door rang, his gaze quite near instantly following his companion's towards that door only to find himself huffing at that lost bet. Though Dorian was certainly not an unwelcome sight, Alexander despised losing in any sense of the word, even if the game had been rigged against him. A rather pointed look was given towards his companion though the Macedonian King hardly blamed his Godson for his father's actions. "Good evening, Dorian." He responded to that greeting all the same, entirely content to simply listen to the pair, his attention entirely steadfast at the sheer mention of that vampire with whom he still held his reservations of. He had exchanged many a word with the Frenchman over that union and yet, in the end, it always came back to that fate that seemed to thwart them. His thoughts were drawn from that upcoming wedding only by that question that left Dorian's lips. "My daughter." He commented simply enough, hardly explaining that true relationship he held to the Russian woman and yet, as his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze turned towards the window, there was almost a vague hint of....concern hidden in the depths of those Greek accented lyrics. "You know she hates the dark."