What a funny thing for her to ask about. Age. As if age mattered beyond its ability to give power. Age was just a number. That changed sometimes. When he remembered to count it. Age didn't matter, not really, maybe it was just a myth. Maybe all numbers were a myth. Darcy's features frowned slightly at that internal thought as Harley pondered those answers he'd given in regards to just how old he was versus that age he had actually been turned. The woman across from him seemed almost...astounded by it. As if numbers could be astounding. Darcy, however, was far more focused on that meal once more. The Southern Vampire, for once, hardly perturbed by her questions. The man in a truly rare mood, one that inclined him to actually answer them. At least until she insisted she desired to get to know him better. The vampires mismatched gaze lifted from his meal to eye her almost suspiciously then. She was cute, he supposed, not exactly his type but certainly not unfortunate looking. She simply did not hold a candle to his own beloved. Risque was flawless. In every way. A goddess amongst mortals. Harley simply....was not her. The vampire was quick to insist he was already taken only for Harley to take offense at the notion. The woman determined to question why he seemed to think she was interested only for Darcy to meet her gaze once more- his voice almost baffled as he insisted that she had asked him. At least, where he came from, that was how someone asked another out. His reply only seemed to cause her to huff all the more as she accused him of getting 'twisty'. Hmm. Children and their slang. What the fuck did that even mean? Maybe it didn't matter.

A soft grunt of acknowledgement was all the reply the cowboy was content to give. His attention instead shifted slightly from that food as he placed another bite of chicken within his mouth- only to question why she called him 'Jaws'. Questions, from Darcy, were decidedly rare in every sense. He hardly cared for Harley's opinion. Tonight however, his mind was inclined to...wander. To consider in a way it normally did not. Jaws was an unusual nickname. Harley's arms folded over her chest, the woman staring at him as if she failed to understand the question- or that answer should have been obvious to him. Darcy, here and now, was merely inclined to stare back in expectation. At least until he was required to hunt for another piece of chicken. The name, she insisted, was from the movie- because he reminded her of that murderous shark with its rows of teeth and terrorising nature. Darcy's head titled every so slightly as if considering that very thing. His tongue, almost habitually, moved to brush over his extra fangs before his gaze shifted to eye those downed vampires around them. His shoulders lifted in an abrupt shrug. As if those fallen beings around him meant...nothing.

"Seems fair."

Some things, it seemed, never changed. No matter the amount of sedative within his system. Darcy's consideration for those other vampires was seemingly non-existent even as Harley hurriedly stood straighter before hurriedly correcting herself. As if she feared he might decide to unleash another rampage. Maybe later. Maybe when he was out of chicken. Though getting up seemed distinctly....difficult right now. Sitting was better. Sitting was glorious. He liked sitting. Maybe he wanted to sit for a bit. That final piece of chicken was swallowed before that container was placed down beside him. Darcy, for now, content to rest his hands on his knees as he leant back agianst the brick wall. The vampire appeared nothing short of human in that moment. A man entirely...content with the world in a way Darcy so rarely was. His figure was free of tension or disdain as he simply relaxed. That conversation came easily. The Southern vampire, tonight, seemingly holding no disdain for that topic of vampire nature as he attempted to explain it- and how it changed when a vampire took a mate. Emotions, for the vampire species, were far more....potent than any mortal. They felt things more strongly, more deeply. Love, desire, devotion and yet how readily it went hand in hand with rage, aggression and jealousy. A vampire, he was certain, was akin to attempting to contain a hurricane inside a box. A mated pair was a combination of storms. A pair of beings who existed for one another and a force not to be reckoned with. Most vampires would back down from a fight with a mated pair. It was rarely worth it. The bloodshed was so often...immense. A coven led by a pair was often stronger in turn- that leadership only further solidified. After all, to take over that coven any aggressor would need to take both leading vampires down. To take a mate was...sensible and yet how difficult it was to find a being tolerable enough amongst their own kind. Harley's sudden question prompted his gaze upward once more, a soft snort erupting from within.

"It is jus one big fuckin' contest. Always 'as been. Goin' solo dough, dat aint so easy in da city. Yar might be able ta do it in the suburbs alright. We vampires is territorial, ya dun 'unt in another vampires turf. In da city dare ain't dat much turf ta go 'round. Coven's mean we can control larger claims, keep other vampires out, more money, more resources- dat kinda ting. A single vamp in da city will get ripped apart by any coven dat catches 'im. 'Is only 'ope of survivin' 'ere is findin a coven ta keep 'im safe."

Darcy paused in that explanation of covens. He felt....hungry again. Where had that chicken gone? His tongue brushed across his fang almost considerately, as if trying to decide just exactly what he was craving while Harley made herself some sort of...makeshift wooden seat at his feet. Why didn't she just sit on the ground? Women were weird.

"I dun git tired of it dough, no. It's a game o'survival, it's my kinda game. I like ta gamble- and what bigger gamble den me own damn life?"

There was nothing save for simple....honesty within those words. Darcy daring to allow a simper of sorts to find his lips before that conversation shifted to love. That was a far more difficult topic. One he himself so hardly...understood. At least not as perfectly as he desired. Love was...hard. It existed though, of that he was certain. Love for vampires was as intense as the rest of their emotions and yet he'd loved Risque since the moment he'd first laid eyes on her. That love had hardly faded over the years, rather, it had grown all the more...intense. More so with her becoming his mate. Harley was right. Becoming mates changed the rules, at least to a certain degree and between two vampires alone. That question of his first meeting with Risque however was hardly expected. Darcy's head abruptly shaking.

"Risque and me met in da South, near da end of da civil war. We met on da battlefield. She killed me Maker, i'd come ta find 'im. Useless shit dat he was. She was slaying newborn vampires like me left right and fuckin center. We was da only two left standin at da end. I knew she was gunna kill me too and I'd 'ave let 'er. I ain't never seen nothin' as beautiful as she was. Like a bloodied damn goddess."

Darcy's head titled once more as if picturing that very moment all those years ago, a simper of sorts managing to find his lips as he did. As if that story was nothing short of utterly romantic. The man seemingly oblivious to how twisted it remained.

"I was just a newborn vampire den, I 'ad no idea what I was doin'. She coulda killed me like she was swattin' a fly- but she didn't. My fangs was different ta most others, day intrigued 'er, reckon she figured I was young enough ta train too. We just fucked instead."

Darcy's shoulders lifted in a shrug once more, as if fucking in the middle of a battlefield so surrounded by death and dripping with blood as they had been was nothing short of normal.

"She kept me after dat. She gave me everything. I owe 'er everything. There ain't nothin; I wouldnt do for 'er. I been wit 'er a long time now. Longer den anyone else."

How reverently those words were uttered, like an oath. Darcy's head nodded in assurance, if only to further confirm that truth they told. Risque was nothing short of a goddess in his eyes, a being to who he owed his very world and one he remained as hopelessly in love with as he had been the day they had met. That very notion that she was not his Maker however was a truth so rarely told and known by so few in turn.

"Love is 'bout apples and pomegranates too- I know dat."

That such a statement would hardly make sense to Harley so failed to occur to him. Darcy instead, was far more intrigued in finding more of that food. His attention span readily seemed to waver before he spied that very container he'd put down beside himself only moments ago. Where had that come from!? The southern vampire was quick to reach for that food before beginning to eat it all over again. That love for chicken, seemingly, transferred now to pasta. Harley's amused laugh was hardly missed and yet Darcy so ardly paid it any mind. At least until she insisted it had been her lunch for tomorrow and that he had been supposed to pay for it. The southern vampires gaze narrowed suddenly, Darcy pausing near mid-chew to eye the Were before him.

"Dun lie."

Those single, uttered two words seemed to hang almost ominously in the air between them for several seconds, a sudden, abrupt silence seeming to follow before Darcy suddenly turned his attention back to that meal. That, it seemed, the very limit of his aggression tonight. Those cool words so desperately pale in comparison to his usual demeanor and yet, even high it seemed, Harley was not about to get away with trying to pull the metaphorical wool over his eyes. Harley seemed to stretch out all the more then, Darcy shifting ever so slightly to make room for her legs before she queried just why he hadn't asked Risque to marry him yet.

"Its all 'bout da timing. Gotta be da right time."

Timing, he was certain, was key. Marriage, with Risque, was a...sensitive topic.The kind that needed to be handled delicately with the vampiric queen lest she react poorly to the suggestion. That topic, however, hardly seemed to last long within the vampire's mind. Darcy instead suddenly seemed to question the security of saloon doors before abruptly insisting he was excellent at math. His focus, tonight, was nothing short of wavering in every sense. That very trait was distinctly unusual for a man normally capable of focusing upon a single notion for hours at a time. Harley's insistence that no one had saloon doors any more seemed to prompt those mismatched eyes to narrow warily again and yet, this time, that look was so surely one of consideration. Maybe it was better that saloon doors had gone out of fashion then. Harley's laughter seemed to prompt a sudden at yet rare chuckle to Darcy's own throat. That surprisingly rare sound hummed softly from within before he let that topic fade. The southern vampire was far more focused now upon maths and Harley's query of just how good he was at it. How good was he? Was that...measurable? Did he need to take an exam? Was he like A Beautiful Mind or just a human calculator.

"I'm better den dat guy in dat movie. It's why i'm so good at Blackjack. I can count da cards, keep a track of all dem numbers, keep a count in me head. Ain't even illegal or nothin'. I'm jus better den da game."

A near smug simper managed to find its way to the vampire's features then before he lifted another mouthful of that pasta to his lips. Darcy, once more, veritably lost to that meal and its contents as if only have just managed to re-discover carbs. The sudden waving of Harley's hand drew his gaze upward and towards the woman once more as if he'd forgotten and remembered her presence all at once. The vampire, momentarily, appeared almost surprised to discover her sitting in front of him again and yet how very relaxed that sedative made him. The sudden question in regards to his chin however prompted the vampire to glance downward in some effort to eye that silver titanium that rested perpetually around his throat. Harley's question seemed to prompt a near curious look from Darcy in turn.

"Everyone knows wot dat chain means, are ya sayin' ya don't?"

This, it seemed, was near baffling and yet that blank look upon Harley's own features only seemed to confirm her ignorance in it. Darcy paused long enough to finish that last bite of paste, his tongue brushing across his lips, before that container was placed beside him once more. His attention, for near the first time, focused upon Harley entirely.

"Risque put it round me neck, years ago. It's da same as a collar yar put on a dog, 'cept she uses a chain for me. It dun break so easy. It means I belong to 'er. Most tings dat belong ta 'er 'ave a collar or chain or something dat proves 'er ownership. Look round da bar next time and you'll start noticin who 'ers and whose just an employee."

Darcy's fingers reached downward near absentmindedly to toy with that chain almost thoughtfully, the cool titanium felt as smooth as it always had beneath his fingers.

"I couldn't even take it off if I wanted to, I ain't got no idea how it comes undone. It ain't got no latch or clasp and it dun fit over me head. I reckon it must be enchanted somehow. It dun break neither. Back in da days when I was still in trainin' she used to use it to grab a 'old of me, or chain me to dat damn wall. Didn't take me long ta work out dat I was only chokin' meself fightin' against it."

Darcy's head shook ever so slightly at those memories, his features frowning slightly in disdain at the thought of that silver wall. He hadn't been chained to it in nearly a century and yet still- that memory remained.

"Im kinda fond of dis chain, I 'ad it dat long. I dun even feel it dare no more. She's got dese other chains dough, in dis draw in 'er desk. She ain't used one o'dem on me in years but even da sight o'dem makes me flinch. If ever I got real outta line she'd fix one o'dem other chains round me neck, the kind with the prongs or barbs that cut into me neck with every movement, or get tighter and together until she releases. Day used to make me bleed somethin' fierce. She's got some far you cats as well. I learned real fast. Tetradore didn't. Dat fuckin' fool ends up in dem collars over and over again. Dun be like 'im. Dats my advice. Dun be a idjit, Arley. Risque dun like idjits."

We are rough men and used to rough ways.