it's over, i'm through

I saw you standing there and I knew I'm done for

A soft groan left his lips at the sudden tugging of his sheets. He reached for those navy blankets, feeling blindly for them before they fell entirely off his figure and onto his bedroom door. An annoyed huff left his lips as Tetradore rolled over, his emerald eyes sluggishly opened in an effort to refind those blankets only for his gaze to land upon the familiar figure of the Frenchman. "Not yet." He grumbled, even if his complaints were all but ignored as Tetradore was quite literally pulled from the depths of his bed with the reminder of just what today was. Right. Thanksgiving. He'd almost forgotten. Tetradore remained perched upon the edge of his bed, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. Matteo's continued prodding, however, resulted in Tetradore reaching over to throw a pillow at the man, only for it to fall flat on the ground. How....unsurprising. The Frenchman reappeared but a mere seconds later beside his nightstand - promptly declaring that he was expected no later than six thirty at the address on the business card. Matteo hardly seemed to linger long, however, with the declaration that needed to check on the turkey before Tetradore was, once again, left alone in the depths of his room.

It took some time longer before the Were-King pulled himself from the depths of that warm bed. Although he had hours to get dressed, he doubted Matteo would let him linger there for much longer. Slowly, his fingers reached out for that card, eying it and the information upon it with only vague interest. Great. Matteo hadn't been joking when he'd told him the night before that he intended to introduce him to the family. How the very thought of that evening prompted butterflies within his chest. For years he had been forced to find contentment only in the stories the Frenchman had recounted. He'd heard stories of wartime and victories and conquests with Alexander. He'd heard stories of witches and curses and art with Dorian. And now, he was finally being forced to meet those very characters that had lived within his imagination for far too many years. It was...peculiar. Awkward, really, if Tetradore had to admit it. "What the fuck is 'smart casual'?" He muttered out loud at the dress code written on the card, his own disgruntlement resulting in the small cardstock tossed back upon the nightside table as he rose from his bed, lifting those blankets back onto that mattress where they belonged.

It was only after lunch and an argument with Jackal over the definition of 'smart casual' that Tetradore finally found himself within the warm embrace of his shower. The Were-King was more than content to merely linger within that heated cascade till his bathroom was steamed and his mirror near entirely fogged. Another yawn crossed his lips as he finally emerged from the depths of that warm with a towel wrapped around his waist. Slowly, the were-feline meandered towards his closet where his far nicer clothing was kept - clothes that he often simply did not wear. For several minutes he simply stared at that expanse of tuxedos and dinner jackets, the dress pants hung in front of him - all seemed far too much for Thanksgiving dinner. His hand reached out pushing aside that clothing to flick through each and every hung piece with indecision. It was sometime later before Tetradore finally came to a decision, that cream colored sweater at least providing the man some level of warmth before a simple pair of nice, fitted jeans settled on his waist, complete with black dress shoes and one of his signature black leather jackets. It was, perhaps, not exactly the 'smart casual' that Jackal had described and yet it seemed good enough.

He moved towards his desk, plucking the keys for the Lamboghini from the depths of the drawer. It was only with the key fob in hand that the man moved to his nightstand where he'd left that cardstock with the address written so neatly upon it. That shadows quickly rushed towards him, the Were-King purposefully avoided the pack at large. For Alexander's own benefit, he attempte to miminize his exposure to the felines within the pack, even if his effort would likely be moot. He reappeared within the garge below, his fingers effortlessly unlocking the bright blue sports car. Tetradore fell into the driver's side seat, the vehicle roaring to life beneath his hands. He guided the car out onto the docks, the heater turned on with autumn already in full swing on the streets of Sacrosanct. Night had already fallen and yet it hardly took him terribly long to make his way in the Lamborghini to the North side of town. Tetradore eyed the luxurious homes that lined the street of the neighborhood he found himself venturing in, only for his vehicle to pause in front of the only house upon the street with not only a fence but no less then four men standing out front of it.

Slowly, Tetradore's window rolled down as his vehicle paused before the gilded fence. "Uhh...Matteo told me to come...for Thanksgiving dinner?" He commented towards the fae that approached his car. "We've been waiting for you, sir. Please go in.". A weak simper was given towards the body guard as the fence swung inward, premitting him entry into the rather large state. His vehicle crept slowly up the drive way, only to stop behind the black Bently. Not a bad car choice, he supposed. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard as he shut his own vehicle off. Tetradore was exactly five minutes late. It was a fact he knew Matteo would not let slide. A soft sigh left his lips, his hand shifted towards the back of his neck, massaging it as he once again attempted to reassure himself that, odd as this would be, everything would surely end fine. Slowly, Tetradore nodded firmly before the man stepped from his vehicle, locking it behind him as he mandered casually up towards the door. A singular press of the doorbell prompted a melody somewhere from deeper within the house - this...was going to be..just...so much fun.

aiden tetradore

you bring out the worst in me