frost.

frozen down to the core

He could sense it quite before Alexander even dared show it upon his features. The irritation within the Hunter was rapidly rising and yet, here and now, Frost made little effort to dissuade its inevitable rise. He had become used to Alexander in every way. Indeed that wordless communication they so often carried out as horse and rider had allowed the equine a distinctly unique understanding of Alexander's whims and attitudes. Indeed, Frost could often almost predict, with notably accuracy, just how his companion felt about any being or situation. It was often their own joint determination that saw them succeed as often as they did and yet, tonight, Frost was nothing if not determined to turn that wilful rebellion back upon his companion. He was willing, on most occasions, to work with his companion. Frost choosing to believe he rarely yielded to the Hunter so much as they found a comfortable middle ground (really Frost was rather oblivious to the amount of times he had been coerced to do exactly as Alexander desired, all the while believing it had been his decision all along). This, however, was another matter entirely. Frost, as he had not done for several years, was nothing if not stubbornly determined to get his own way. The stallion was entirely unflinching in the wake of Alexander's rising irritation even as several patrons hurriedly backed further away as if sensing the impending storm within the Macedonian King.

Frost remained exactly where he sat, his arms folded across his chest in a subtle display of his own unyielding desires, the equine uttering only that insistence that the young woman whom had been equally at fault in causing this chaos (as far as Frost was concerned it was mostly her fault) seemed to be escaping any kind of punishment. Alexander's gaze momentarily shifted away from the snowy-haired young man to see the unfortunate young woman who had the good sense to press further away from the Hunter before Alexander insisted it was not her who had lit a chair on fire- illusion or otherwise. The sharp, no-nonsense tone within Alexander's voice prompted Frost's gaze to narrow in turn. It was bold of him, perhaps, to insist that Alexander was fired. Frost, for a brief moment, was rewarded with a genuine look of disbelief upon Alexander's features before the Hunter abruptly stepped forward- seizing him by the collar of his shirt. Alexander's vastly superior strength made any effort at protest all but futile as Frost was hauled to his feet. His own words of irritation fell from his lips before Alexander released him- only to bark an order at an unfortunate waitress who hurried to do as asked. The woman returned in a matter of moments with a mop and bucket- only for Alexander to thrust them into Frost's hands.

Alexander stepped backward then to take up a position in the chair Frost had been forcibly evicted from only moments before. It was, perhaps, the equines turn to appear....baffled, as his violet gaze shifted from that mop and bucket and back toward his rider. The rest of that room, patrons and Emerance alike, were monetarily forgotten. Frost fixated upon Alexander alone in a moment of distinctly tense.....silence. How readily both men seemed determined to simply stare at one another in that silent showdown of wills. Alexander was distinctly famous for his unyielding authority and determination and yet Frost was an Alpha within his own right. A stallion. A war horse. A creature simply designed to face such challenges head on and with his own determined arrogant defiance. How readily the equine seemed to consider his options now. That array of thought so clearly turned within his mind before his gaze narrowed once more. A single, defiant word leaving his lips. No. He would not clean that cafe. It was beneath him. Nor did he truly believe it was entirely his fault. That mop and bucket was placed carefully down, Frost's arms folding back across his chest as someone else gasped softly at his display of wilful stubbornness. The silence that followed was distinctly tense once more. There was, Frost was certain, no way in which Alexander could force him to clean that cafe. The stallion assured he had forced his rider into an impasse, one that might force the Hunter to renegotiate those offered terms and yet how perilous this very moment was. How much of their working relationship hindered upon it in turn.

That silence was broken only by the soft sound of Alexander suddenly rising from his seat once more, closing the distance between them in a matter of moments and yet- Frost so hardly refused to shift despite some faint, distant part of his mind desiring to...step back from the Hunter. A niggling desire that was all but suffocated by his own determined ego. No? Alexander repeated that word, one eye raising, as if seeking to assure himself that this was Frost's true answer. Frost's own reply was distinctly...blunt.

"You heard me."

Whatever else Alexander had been about was abruptly cut short by a disturbance. That chair was suddenly occupied by an unanticipated being. Matteo. Of all people. Frost could hardly prevent that frown from finding his features even despite Matteo's insistence he was merely here to 'see the show'. No one, it seemed, since Matteo himself, had dared to tell Alexander no. A battle the Fae had apparently lost. Frost offered little more than a snort of derision. He hardly needed nor intended for an audience. Matteo continually had a habit of showing up when he was least desired. A single word of....disdain at Matteo's presence was uttered beneath his breath. Matteo and Alexander both, it seemed, hearing that word. The pair of them entierlycapble of discerning its meaning and yet Frost little intent to take it back. Oh, how in the mood it seemed he was for fighting. This attitude so hardly having presented itself for....years. Not since his earliest days beneath Alexander's guidance. Alexander stepped abruptly forward then, grasping his elbow, only to forcibly turn him around and shove him toward the counter. If he was not ready to clean, Alexander insisted, then he could make drinks for those people who had suffered the loss of theirs in the aftermath of his fire illusion. That insistence that he would be cleaning up that cafe however only further increased that frown on Frost's features. His violet gaze swung to meet Alexander's own once more.

"Fine. I'll fix the drinks- but I'm not cleaning."

It was....the barest of yields, perhaps. The faintest of shifts- and yet that notion of cleaning, it seemed, was a point the stallion refused to budge on. Did Alexander truly intend to sit here all night and all the next day waiting for him to clean? How readily Frost knew of his riders near infinite patience and yet how certain he was that Alexander hardly intended to see that punishment out. He would accept those drinks, surely, then let him go. Frost, in that moment, was more than content to wait Alexander out if he had too. How long could the hunter really be bothered to sit there for? The equine reached for that coffee machine before beginning to make that first drink, pushing it across the counter to a baffled looking patron only to turn his violet gaze to the next. A rather nervous looking woman.

"Well? What the hell did you have?"

Frost's irritation in the entire situation was distinctly clear. His words held a frigid, biting edge as the woman hurriedly shook her head. "Its...its fine, forget it....". An almost satisfied simper dared to linger briefly upon the equine features before he was near certain he could feel Alexander's gaze boring into him. Fine. The stallion, this time (wisely), kept his words to himself as he looked expectantly at the next man in line. That drink was made with silent compliance even despite the fashion in which Frost still managed to slam several of those drinks down in childish irritation. It was only once those customers had been served that Frost stepped away from that coffee machine and back around the bar. The equine made a rather bold effort to stride towards that door. Only for a single, sharp utterance of his name uon Alexander's lips prompting him to stop. Alexander was really going to try and force him to clean? Really? Fine. Frost turned silently on his heel, the equine striding back across that cafe only to flop down on a lounge chair opposite Alexander's own. Frost easily laid back upon it, his arms crossing over his chest once more, his gaze turned upward at the ceiling. Alex thought he could wait him out? Huh! The Hunter would give up by dinner time, he was certain.