Harley's bold insistence that she was not, in fact, single, seemed to prompt at least some measure of curiosity within the Southern Vampire. Darcy, in that moment, was nothing short of oblivious to the nerve he had struck. His thoughts, after all, struggled to focus on any one topic for too long and yet even that so hardly seemed to concern him. His mind felt....lazy, slow and yet distinctly contended all at once. It was almost pleasant to exist in this space. Darcy, in all his years of life, was near unaccustomed to such quiet pleasantness of thought. Harley's insistence that she was, in fact, occupied with Ben and Jerry prompted a slight tilt to the vampire's head as his mismatched gaze met her own. Two men? She was seeing both? Did they know about each other? Or was she doing them both at the same time? Harley had hardly seemed the type and yet Darcy's head nodded. The vampire almost seeming impressed- at least until she saw fit to argue with him over those obscure terms for sex. That ever-Southern 'buttering your biscuit' prompted a soft snort from within the lounging cowboy.

"I ain't 'eard no one say dat in years neither. Still, makes more sense den dat devils tango."

His head nodded once more. The vampire seemingly convinced his own Southern term, in all its obscurity, was somehow superior. That conversation of his and Risque's own first meeting seemed to fascinate Harley all the more. Darcy, in those precarious moments, continued to fixate near complete on the pasta within his lap. That meal was far better than he ever remembered pasta being. Human food tonight, so seemingly captivating him entirely as his conversation shifted from Risque, to saloons, to numbers, to love and that ridiculous tree his grandmother had told him about all those years ago. Even Risque herself had hardly seemed certain of just what that tree represented and how it was supposed to symbolise love in any sense. His Queen had gone so far as to insist she preferred pomegranates to the apples of the story. Maybe it could be any type of tree? How the hell was he to know? Darcy's head shook slightly as if attempting to dismiss that thought. His finished meal was discarded for a second time. He certainly felt less hungry and yet he still wanted....something else. What was it? It was almost like a craving. Even if he could hardly put his finger on it. Harley's efforts to assure him that he had offered to pay for that dinner tonight was met with a sudden narrowing of his mismatched gaze. Darcy, even beneath the haze of that sedation, so hardly seemed inclined to forget every facet of his personality. Harley was lying. He was certain of it. That peaceful, quiet serenity that had settled upon the pair seemed to ripple, if only for a moment. Darcy's lips pulled but briefly back from his fangs- Harley offered a distinctly curt warning- before he seemed to settle abruptly once more. The conversation, this time, turned to casinos and just how he went about playing them to assure his own victory.

Gambling. That was a topic he was assured he knew a lot about. His mind, for several seconds, seemed almost capable of fixating upon that topic as he spoke casually of the millions he gambled. How distinctly unaware he was of Harley's own internal thoughts on just how casually he seemed to speak of that money. Why shouldn't he? Risque and himself had millions upon millions. Risque's own personal wealth exceeded his own. She could buy feline upon feline and hardly find the bottom of her purse and yet.....how distressing he found frivolous spending. How much he liked budgets and order. Darcy's gaze narrowed ever so slightly at the thought of that money. One of the decidedly few topics Risque and himself were ever inclined to argue over. Still, he supposed, they were hardly going to go broke tonight- or tomorrow, or the night after. Maybe not for at least another century. A century was a long time. Wasn't it? How hardly his brain seemed capable of considering it. How oblivious that southern cowboy was of the near far-off stare that had afflicted his features. Harley, by some miracle, managed to coax his thoughts away from numbers and towards the silver-coloured chain at his neck.

How readily that singular topic seemed to ensnare his attention. Her question earned her a very near hard stare. All that time in Syn and she had never noticed who wore collars and who didn't? She had never noticed who was an employee, a pet, or owned? Maybe she truly was thick. Were's often were slow. Maybe it wasn't their fault. It was their species. They were born....idiotic. Like Tetradore. Tetradore who had ceased to learn those lessons like Darcy had all those years ago. It was far, far easier to submit to Risque's will than it was to continue to rally agianst it. How well Darcy remembered the prongs of those more...painful chains she kept within her desk drawer. The very kind that cut deeper and deeper into flesh the more he struggled or pulled agianst it. How quickly he had learned those lessons she desired to teach. The simple, plain chain he had worn for years was a reward, a kindness, one that caused him no grief. He'd become almost fond of it. Even if it continued to baffle him as to how it came off. Darcy was never yet capable of working out that singular facet. Harley, however, seemed to grow all the more...distressed over that conversation. The raven-haired woman stood abruptly, her arms folding over her chest as she looked down upon him with that declaration she was no employee, nor was she any kind of pet. She had no collar or chain. She was free.

The sudden, short bark of laughter that erupted from within the cowboy was distinctly genuine. That sound, were it not over her inevitable demise, might almost have seemed pleasant. Free? Harley was hardly free. She was simply....under assessment. Risque deciding to keep her would be a mercy. The only alternative was to become a rug beneath their mistresses feet. Risque, after all, did not keep Feline employees. Only pets. A fate that would, in the very least, keep Harley from death. As long as she wasn't as fucking out of control as Tetradore continued to be. Maybe that was why she seemed so upset? She wanted a collar. Darcy, if nothing else, was almost certain he could see about getting her one of those. Risque herself hardly held interest in Harley and yet, nor had Harley annoyed the Nightmarish Queen enough as to warrant her execution. It had been years since he had a WerePet of his own. Perhaps Risque might let him have Harley for himself. Then again- she did speak too much. She would have to be far less chatty if she was going to belong to him. How easily he had misread her rage in that moment. Harley's bold, passionate speech reduced to the mere belief she was asking to be a pet. Darcy, in that moment, equally inclined to feel he had been....kind to her- by offering her that very thing. The harsh sound of frustration that echoed from within the woman prompted Darcy's gaze back towards her as she insisted he was 'high' if he thought she was a pet. That very sentence coaxed another soft snort from within him.

"I dun tink yar a pet, I know ya are. Da sooner yar know it, da easier yar life will git."

It was true, wasn't it? The sooner she accepted her lot in life the sooner she wolud find it...easier. Didn't Harley understand? They all belonged to Risque. Harley could simply choose to fight it like Tetradore- or she could learn to embrace it as Darcy had. The vampire was near certain that even Harley could see who had benefited most. Darcy's legs shifted beneath him, the vampire making every effort to attempt to stand. Harley, after all, was standing. Darcy seemed to decide that was a decent plan in turn- even if the world seemed to...shift and roll as he did. One hand reached out to attempt to balance himself on the wall, the vampire, at last, managing to pull himself upright. That was a fucking struggle. Had the world always been this uneven? Darcy's head shook once more, the southern cowboy attempting to clear his vision before he abruptly stepped away from the wall. His strides were....as uneven as the world itself and yet the vampire seemed to manage to walk all the same. Darcy, abruptly, insisting he had somewhere to be- before sharply calling out for Harley to follow. That request was far more of a command. How sensible she was to realise it as she ran to keep up with him. Those other vampires, his coworkers, were all but forgotten. If they fried in the sun- then they deserved it.

Harley's words seemed to trail off as she hurried after him. Darcy, for his part, hardly seemed to pay any heed to the oncoming traffic as he stepped out and onto the road. The screech of tires and the shouts of angry motorists were all but ignored. Human insects mean so little to him. Not when he had somewhere to be. Harley's query of where he was going prompted little more then a frown to his features.

"Somewhere 'portant."

His words were a veritable shout over the traffic as he stepped up and onto the other side of the road. Harley, by some miracle, equally managed to avoid that traffic as Darcy's thoughts seemed to shift all over again. The cowboy vampire, this time, abruptly offered Harley that distinctly little known fact. One cat. One. In all those centuries....had been let go. Harley's query on that GPS was met with another snort as Darcy glanced left and then right. The vampire seemed to consider just which way he wanted to go- before turning abruptly left and beginning to stumble down the sidewalk.

"She dun 'ave GPS. She can like....feel all ya felines wit 'er powers. Like leashes only she can see. She can always find ya."

Darcy's efforts to explain that power were...creative, if nothing else. The cowboy was convinced of its accuracy all the same as he continued further down the sidewalk- only to suddenly step off and onto the grass verge. The southerner headed for the restaurants by the fancy east-side docks as he cut through a small side street. The scent of the ocean was...strong here. Salty and fishy and....wet. Harley's questions seemed to fall on deaf ears as Darcy wandered out onto yet another road. This one, fortunately, had only one car to avoid as Vampire and Were blundered across that street in turn. Darcy focused so entirely on his destination- or seemingly so. Why did she let him go? Tobias? Tobias was very near a forbidden word in that club.

"Dare was summthin' wrong wit 'im. Summthin' broken. She couldn't.....control 'im like da others cause he's all fucked in da head- but it was more den dat."

Darcy's gaze narrowed slightly at that plethora of memories that turned within his mind. Those thoughts seemed sluggish.

"She gave 'im ta Ruben, ta 'ave for 'is own pet. Ruben gave 'im back. Said Tobias was 'aunted."

Just what 'haunted' meant was distinctly unclear. Darcy's own mind was distinctly incapable of focusing in turn and yet for Ruben to give back a gift from Risque. A gift of a precious feline no less was distinctly...significant.

"He bit 'er once. Tobias dat is. He bit Risque- I ain't seen a cat bite 'er in years 'efore dat- but den he did sumthin' worse....."

Darcy's words trailed off. The vampire seemed to lose focus all over again. His feet abruptly halted at the edge of the path. Where the concrete turned to sand. The pair had reached the beach. The ocean looked nearly black beneath the moonlight, slithers of light cast its pale glow over that moving water, the sand appearing all the more white as Darcy abruptly reached down......to begin taking off his shoes. One boot after the other. His socks followed a moment later before they were piled neatly on the wall- the vampire abruptly stepping down and onto the sand- his feet all but sinking within it as an almost...boyish grin seemed to find him.

"Take yar shoes off."

That, it seemed, was yet another command as Darcy's mismatched gaze shifted abruptly to Harley with the clear expectation she would do as asked. The vampire waited only so long as it took the baffled Were to remove her shoes before placing them (neatly because he likes neat) next to his own.

"Yar 'ave really tiny feet."

Well. It was almost a compliment. Darcy moved to turn then. The vampire trekked out across that sand and towards the waters edge. The southern cowboy, despite himself, so clearly enjoying the sand beneath his feet as he moved. Harley left to follow in his wake until Darcy reached the shoreline and the gentle waves that lapped at his toes. The damp sand beneath his feet was cold- just like that first time.

"I ain't never seen da beach till I met Risque. She brought me 'ere after I told 'er dat. Ta show it to me for da first time. She stayed in da car, she dun like sand dat much but she let me walk on it. I reckoned I was gunna sink da first time, ya know, like quicksand. Da waves was big dat night too. Ain't never seen nothin' like it. Risque showed me da whole damn world since I met 'er. But it started wit da beach. I'd seen pictures o'da beach 'efore, in me books when i was a kid but me Pa, he ain't like me doin' no book-learning. Smacked me upside da 'ead for dat."

Just why he shared those very words or indeed the purpose behind them remained to be seen. Harley, for the briefest of moments, afforded the tiniest glance into a world that existed for Darcy and Risque alone- and the world he had come from. The southern vampire still, after all that time, so clearly....fascinated by the beach as his toes moved within the sand. Darcy abruptly stepped past Harley once more, only to begin walking down that beach and along the shoreline. A hum rising within this throat. The vampire continued to hum that tune as he walked. His lips parted, on occasion, uttering several of those lyrics at a time.

"She keeps her Moet t Chandon in a pretty cabinet, let dem eat cake she says, just like Marie Antoinette........cavier an cigerettres, well versed in etiquette.....she's a killer queen....dynamite with a laser beam....guaranteed to blow yar mind...."

How that song had always reminded him of mate.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.