It was impish of him, perhaps, to so enjoy surprising others with his presence and yet Matteo was nothing if not the very epitome of his species on most occasions. The ancient Fae perhaps one of the few beings left whom displayed those very characteristics of their all but dying breed. Yet, such impishness so hardly rose over that veritable good-nature that seemed to cling to the man in turn. Matteo crouching easily beside that spilled paint to reach for its lid and press it back upon the can in turn, only to seal it tightly, and offer his hand to the woman with the striking eyes whom had so failed to navigate her path. Her near dainty fingers fit easily within his own. The Frenchman guiding her smoothly to her feet before reaching for that tin once more to hold it out toward her upon the tips of his own now thoroughly tainted fingers. Her very query on whether or not she had managed to splash that paint against himself met with that singular shake off his head and that ready simper.

"Ah, I fear I so put the paint upon myself, you are hardly to blame, Mon Cherie. As for this thank you note you wait for- I suspect it may be a long wait."

How pleasing it was to find a woman with but some touch of humor. Such beings were always far more agreeable to indulge with his time. His own soft chuckle humming within his throat. Yet too, that very curiosity for the woman before him so managed to tug as restlessly as the wind itself against his inner thoughts. He knew already, he was sure, just what that paint was for and yet he sought to query it anyway. The young witch appearing near decidedly embarrassed by the admittance that it was for her living room- a room so apparently in unfortunate condition. Matteo quite unable to prevent the grin that found his lips once more in response as he stood before her, a look that shifted into a frown at the sight of the blue paint he had managed to transfer from his hands to her own in the moment he had helped her to her feet. That white cloth plucked from his back pocket a few seconds later before he held it toward her.

"It is as they say, the most intriguing things are sometimes well hidden- or in need off just a little care..."

His silvered gaze lifted readily then to meet the ardent blue of her own, though whether indeed he so spoke of that living room and its need for a new coat of paint or the young woman herself who stood before him so remained to be seen. That near knowing simper remaining upon his lips all the same. Those accented words continuing then.

"..the living room I am sure will appreciate the attention."

That white cloth was pressed into her own hands then to afford her that chance to wipe the paint from her hands. That uttered thanks so hardly missed before he inquired after her very species. That singular mention of the word 'witch' readily seeing her features fall, the young woman asking him to repeat himself before dismissing the idea altogether. Matteo so merely allowing one eye to lift in a vague intrigue. How curious that she might deny what she was. Matteo as assured off her species as he was the weather around them. The Frenchman needing no true affinity or power for that. He could simply....sense that very power that thrummed about her. That magic within her veins readily detectable by one so aged as himself and yet, perhaps, she herself had not yet come to the acceptance of what she was as so many often did not. Even if, he suspected, this witch had been born as such. That silence between them however, persisted no more than a moment or two before the young woman seemed to reconsider her answer. That soft admittance slipping from her lips a moment later that she was, indeed, a witch. That very nervousness upon her figure so hardly missed. Matteo's own features softening once more.

"It is not a terrible thing, Mon Cher, to admit what you are. You cannot change it, after all. The world has enough people whom desire to be something they are not. This city is full of of Witches and Warlocks- you will find your place amongst them in time."

His voice held little but firm reassurance. He had seen it, after all, in the wide expanse of future that lingered before her though, as always, he spoke little of that which existed in his mind's eye alone. Matteo so rarely choosing to speak of ones future to that being themselves. Sometimes it was simply better to allow that future to unfold as it would and yet it surely did not hurt to provide a little faith, a little hope, that all would be well in time if only to chase the worry from her. Her path was so hardly an easy one and yet, at its end, she was all but destined to be quite unlike any other whom had come before her.

"The magic in your veins is old, isn't it? Forgive me, but these things I can sense. I am a little older than my ravishing good looks would have you believe."

Those teasing words fell readily from his lips in turn. Matteo regarding the woman with a ready amusement before his hand lifted to gesture down that street she had been headed only moments ago. His curiosity in such a pretty creature as she well engaged.

"Your should be proud of such a heritage as your own- few can claim it, after all. Come now, perhaps I might escort you home, hmm? You have little to fear from me I assure you and the road ahead may yet be paved with more dangerous men whom may find themselves in fear of your ruining their shoes."



m a t t e o
it's tough to be a god