stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

There was something intense about that stare, as if he were contemplating something far, far away from her grasp. If only she could read minds at that very moment, then she would most likely call out the world on their bullshit. Harley was many things but subtle was not one of them. But it was probably for the best of the rest of the world that she was blissfully unaware like most of the populace at large. Then again, she very much preferred the challenge of whittling down someone until she could peer at those raw colours they possessed. She was always so curious of peoples motives and what made them tick, to see the manner in which they fell apart while she danced circles around them. Within her sarcastic fortress of wit and that sometimes malicious silver tipped scalpel of a tongue, she remained quite protected behind those impenetrable walls. There were very few people that got to see behind it all. Isolt and Sterling compromised of perhaps the only creatures that withstood the chapters of times. How terribly boring that would be to simply just know everything of the world and the people within it. Even though most of it was one big disappointment when you looked beyond the superficial basic glamours of society.

For a moment she had completely forgotten the true subject on the matter at hand, the two of them seemed to dance some strange unspoken, insinuating lines of double-entendre. It wasn't every day that someone like this wanted to toy within the thorny playground that was Harley's.

All. Night. Long. Well, either the man was entirely too confident in his skills of... whatever they were they talking about anymore. Oh yes, talking. Just talking. Right? Maybe it was the French or the accent that made things seem even more... suggestive. Although she didn't really think of it, simply content to bulldoze full speed ahead.

She might have a peacock on her hands, flashing that vibrant, intricate tail with a bravado. But she was certain he was very confident but was it real or all for show? "Ooo confidence, I like it. But let's see what you have up your sleeve.." She speaks of an unspoken challenge of her own making, a flash of something unreadable flashes behind those vibrant, calculating purple eyes. She was the kind of woman who had to see things for herself in order to believe. She didn't believe anything at face value, but it didn't mean she didn't enjoy dancing in the possibility.

So he would inflict her with his words while she inflicted him with a masterpiece. She wondered what sort of curses would leave his lips when the needle pierced his skin in those, particularly painful parts. But the shit that left people's mouths when they were not expecting that pain. "You have yourself a deal." She nodded definitively, a knowing smirk finding her lips. We will see if the gentleman had foul mouth soon enough. Was the thought that snickered cheekily within her mind.

"A challenge." She added. A smirk spread across her plush lips, perking up at that. She liked that. Keeping the raven-haired entertained was certainly no easy feat. He seemed to talk a big game, she sure hoped he could keep up the charade, she was already quite entertained by his company. The odds, however, were not in his favour considering how many had she seen fall flat. Regardless, she peers at him in an assessing way, he does not flinch or falter under that gaze.

Then she questioned his ethnicity, without subtly, she was a no bullshit kind of girl. Besides he had the accent and the random French words thrown in. So it seemed like a logical question. She hardly expected to say he lived in France. "France huh? Sounds fancy. I can't say I have ever been. The frenchiest place I've ever been to is Quebec." That was beautiful but definitely not the same. She looked at him with a look of disbelief. Not because of where he was from but because of the meaning of the word he threw around so idly.

Darling?? Did anyone in their right mind consider her a darling for even one second? Not if they had their head screwed on straight. Part of her hisses at that, her violet eyes ignite in fire. It was a damn good thing he was likable. "Darling. That has definitely had to be a first." She replied sardonically, a scoff brushing her lips. It was a good thing he was likable. She wondered what that would allow him to get away with. He would need to tread lightly. "If you think I am a.... Cherie or whatever, you are in for one hell of a disappointment." Hmph, he could keep those fancy French words, she was no darling. That mouth of hers so often brought her a lot of trouble. Darling, she nearly scoffs. Well wasn't that the flaming understatement of the year.

She told him the tale of the hipster with grandiose ideas of what he deemed worldly. That asshole probably never even left the city, let alone the country. Frauds were the worst douchebags of them all. She remembered that little shits demeanor too, he was a total prick. A prick a bogus tattoo, it seemed fitting.

There goes that word again.. Darling.. She huffed, at that name as harmless as it was. "Well Frenchiefry.. Let's face it, most people cannot handle a woman like me." That la idiot comment had her snickering though. It wasn't the most French-sounding thing but coming from him he could just about make anything sound French posh, she was sure, even an insult. "La Idiot, I am going to have to use that sometime, I'm curious if someone will handle that better than just calling them a moron. I will have to give it a whirl. I might have to enlist you to come up with creative insults I can casually throw around." Oh how smug with herself she would be, like a cat that got the cream. Oh, she would absolutely be amused at the idea of all the French insults she could possibly squeeze out of him. His impish grin was back, she figured it suited him. He looked like trouble. She was certain of it and yet she was curious about what brand of trouble that was.

Now it was for her to put on a little bit of a show, batting her eyes at him, he words dripping with that iconic sarcasm. She went about fashioning a name for him, one that was entirely meant to tease. He never really batted an eye, he simply met her tit for tat. She happened to like that but it also made the raven hair woman wonder how far she could press. How many buttons she could play with before he had enough. He claimed he could not disappoint a lady in that fashion. How aristocrat of him. She hardly considered herself a lady. "Oh goodie, today is my lucky day then, Matteo." That playful sarcasm rang clear within her voice. She would have never guessed Matteo, but perhaps it did seem to suit him. There was a lot of fuel for nicknames with that name if she didn't continue to call his Frenchiefry the peacock. There was also, Matt,Teo, and Atty.


He flipped through the pictures of her book, the pictures never did any of them justice. It just never caught all the intricate details or those meticulously placed highlights and lowlights. She might have made it hard on people, but if it wasn't for that 'charming' abrasive personality, it was definitely her work that brought people back to endure her torment and they paid her for it. When his shirt came off, she went to examine those, tattoos. Yes, just the tattoos... and not the chiseled body that he very obviously possessed. Ok, let's be real, she definitely noticed that he had washboard abs he could have probably done laundry on. She wasn't exactly shy about the way she looked at him either. He could parade around without his top on all he liked, she was surely not going to complain. How did one stay... so hard. A chuckle left him from her comment of fine tattoos. Someone send help, Harley was malfunctioning.

She had to admit the work that he had done was done by expert hands. She complimented them and nodded at his words. But not without noticing those names. Surely they meant something to him. If not, that would be seriously fucked up.

Harley nearly choked when he mentioned his... sons. Sons.. and how old? If she were drinking something she would have spat out the drink across the room. Hopefully landing somewhere near her bosses station. "Now you are fucking with me.." Those violet eyes peer at Matteo with sheer disbelief and as they narrow in that way that said do not bullshit me. A flash of warning. "Unless you're a... something that is not mortal.. that can have....kids. You're not a vampire... far too... golden for that.. and you don't have that creepy I am dead vibe. You a warlock?" That's all she knew of anyways.. Were's, witches, and vampires. That's all there was right? Please don't tell me there is more. She seemed skeptical, eyeing the man carefully. "Ok wow, you're a DILF. No wonder why you're so confident." She cleared her throat, that shock of age still came across as unsettling. The words spewed out before she could stop them. He seemed so.. young. but at that age.. he could have been a GILF or a GGGILF. But then she remembered every vampire she ever met. They looked young too but in a different kind of way. Like an embalmed gothic kind of way, with that ethereal kind of glow upon their pale skin. They were perfect hunters. He better not be one of those human sacrificing, eat a young heart to maintain youth kind of person. It would be just her god damn luck. Everyone and their grandpa were on god mode.. fucking supernatural powers, able to use mortals as a simple doormat. Over her dead body. Oy, let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Whatever he was, he was fun and as long as he didn't try to pull some supernatural bullshit on her, she would be just fine. After all, the closest people in her life were of the magical variety. She met that gaze with an unwavering one of her own. She would not back down from a staring contest even one with a bajillion old preternatural god. She was resilient, and not one to back down from anything no matter what they were. This wouldn't change anything. It explained a hell of a lot though. One could say it was possibly a brave trait, but honestly, it was probably equal parts or maybe even just mainly stupid.

She then asked if he was ready to take that chance. She does not waver even with that impish grin plastered on his face. "Alright, good because I was starting to wonder if that confidence was just an act." An up to no good smirk toys upon her lush lips as those teasing lyrics fall easily from them, her vibrant eye sparkle. He leaned upon that counter like he was poised for an artist to paint him. He was certainly eye candy and judging by his confidence he knew this already. So many men only appeared so certain on the outside but perhaps Matteo was one of the very few who actually believed it.


She questioned if he had a god complex because he wanted the world at his feet. There he went calling her darling again, cryptically mentioning some other man. "Oh? Lovers quarrel?" She feigned nonchalance but in actuality, her head was going bonkers trying to figure out who HE was and why would he get a tattoo just to spite him. If he had wished to garner her curiosity then it was working. This ancient Matteo man was certainly becoming a tease. She perked up, tipping her head as if trying to play with the puzzle pieces of the man before her. One thing for certain is she hardly was prepared to let him get away with such juicy information.

"It works a bit, you would notice a difference if you didn't. But don't you worry, I will take it easy on you and it won't kill you. But I assure you my hands know what they are doing." How was that for comfort? She grinned, letting her eyes glitter with a telltale wayward glint.

The conversation shifted to cats. The raven-haired woman listened to his spiel about his opinion on cats, thoughtfully and it would seem he was rather passionate about it. She had to do everything in her power not to scoff at him. "Cats?? Sounds like you are reading my fortune cookie not describing kitty cats. They are jerks. I take it you are a cat person?" She easily teased. She was quite certain he was describing her, at least the part about revenge and unbreakable wills. Yeah, she was also as stubborn as they came, but she wasn't going to lead with that. Being a cat person usually wasn't common with men but why the hell not? People were entitled to like whatever the hell they wanted. But in her case, cats left a bad taste in her mouth. She had the scars to prove it. Hell, she met the kitten queen herself and her terror-inducing pets. Ruthless things that obeyed her every command. Her own brother couldn't even control her. Since her encounter with her the vampire woman's cats, she had been turned off by anything that could be controlled by that wicked woman. She was terrifying enough. She would never own a feline for as long as she lived. "As pretty as your words were, I don't think you could convince me otherwise." She had a vivid thought of the blue-black haired vampire and her kitty army, which didn't do it credit describing it. If you saw an army of controlled felines. Run the fuck away. Her stomach still had the faded scars from when she was tortured in a house of horrors, just for dating the wrong fucking guy. It was just her luck to date the brother of the most psychotic woman on the planet, she was positive of it. Harley had the terrible taste in men. Yeah, so cats.. good flipping riddance.

She thought about that one word. Soon. What the hell did that mean, soon? She shrugged it off, too busy trying to push the thoughts of long ago past that still kept her awake at night. Plus, that that very foreboding word was creepy enough. He was probably just talking out of his ass anyways.

It was almost a pity as he threw his shirt back on. But it was probably for the better. His words seem to be spoken with an impish delight. A smirk danced across her lush lips biting the inside of her lips. The guy was sexy, even for an ancient grandpa that randomly showed up all cryptic and mysterious and more self-assured than anyone she had ever known. His comment alone made it impossible not to let her mind toy with the possibility.

She moved toward her chair, not too far from the back, but her station was away from the view of the front of the shop. "That depends. Hm. Just about anywhere.. but.." She uttered those words as though considering something she didn't dare say aloud, goddamn Harley pull yourself together. She faces him as she stood right beside her chair. She patted the plush black leather seat that could be positioned in any way she pleased. It was convenient to manipulate to her needs.

"Right here. It's adaptable." She nearly shook her head at herself. She clearly needed to get laid. She was deplorable, well at least in her mind.

"Prepare my canvas and I will sketch something out and you can tell me what you think, unless you want to be surprised." By prepare her canvas she meant take his shoes and socks off, the rest was up to her.

Harley Westward