He had hardly anticipated a warmed welcome from the Fae whom sat across that room from him. That near subtle tightening of Andras' grip upon the glass within his hand the only true indicator, outside of the future Matteo had already seen, of the irritation that seemed below the surface of the usually composed creature. It was to be expected, perhaps. Love did things to a man. Especially when they believed those they loved had suffered a course of action they perceived preventable as so many often did. Perhaps once it had been and yet the chance to rewrite the course of Lani's history future had been lost long ago and well before Matteo himself had made any effort to peer into the blue-eyed blond's future. Fate had long ago decided the path of the woman Andras adored and yet that very adoration so often blinded one to the truth. Matteo hardly any less a victim of such a thing himself. It had taken several centuries in turn before he had come to fully understand that role of Fate and indeed his own role as a mere puppet of the entity and yet here and now there was so little time for such philosophical explanations. Andras did not care to hear it and he did not care to tell it. Matteo, for now, content to let the man be angry. A release of that anger, after all, might yet prove beneficial. The Frenchman perhaps somewhat inclined to hasten that very agitation to its zenith- if only a little. Pressing Andras too far likely to result in distinctly pleasing consequences in turn. The younger Fae near insisting he had no time for clever words today as Matteo's shoulders lifted in that simple shrug once more.

"You may not have time for them today, perhaps not even tomorrow or the day after- but my clever words, as you call them, are not often wrong. They might be worth listening too."

Whether or not Andras chose to heed them was entirely at the discretion of the other Fae and yet- given Andras' last misinterpretation off his prediction perhaps now was so hardly the time to further remind him off it. Andras' query as to just why he was here met with perhaps an equally cryptic sentence- one that prompted some faint flicker of amusement to the Frenchman's features even if he was quick to conceal it. Andras, tonight, so seemingly oblivious to the notion he was perhaps being well-baited into this very argument if only for Matteo's determination to attempt to coerce the other man in unleashing that very anger and irritation that turned within him. Clinging to such things, after all, would only prompt Andras to be more.....like his Father. A consideration Matteo hardly dared voice and indeed was quick to remove from his thoughts altogether if only for the displeasure of it. Those next words that leave the other mans lips very near a snarl of outrage, Andras sitting up further within his seat as Matteo remained near lackidastically against the back of the couch. The Frenchman so often the epitome of....calm in near any situation. His refusal to get excited so often a source of great irritation to Dorian in particular. Right along with his habit of so finding the world amusing at moments others tended not too. If only the knew. Did Andras not truly believe all would be well as he had said? Matteo chose, in that moment, to ignore that near snarled accusation he was patronising him. The ancient Fae so instead querying after Lani's wellbeing. That, it seemed, pressing Andras to the end of his metaphorical teather.

The other Fae rose abruptly from his chair. Andras nothing short of towering when upon his feet. Matteo very near forced to look upward at the man whom stormed towards him. The Frenchman inclined to remain just where he was though whether indeed such a thing was a show off steadfastness or merely his decidedly calm nature at play remained to be seen. That faint touch off red so illuminating his silver gaze giving way to the use of that power for future sight. That anger rolling from Andras near palpable now. Matteo decidedly...understanding off it in ever sense. He knew, after all, the very...effect Lani so had on the man before him. Andras affording him little chance to reply before storming away from him to pace up and down that small room, that glass swept from the table in a single motion to shatter upon the floor. Matteo inclined to allow the raise of a singular eye. Ho very much Andras reminded him off a teenage Aiden in that moment. Age, it seemed, held no command over the tantrums of men. Even he himself was guilty of one or two over the centuries. Those shouts continue then, Matteo's lips parted once more only to fall silent again as those near monsterous black wings all but erupt from Andras' back. How very much.....like his Father he looked in that moment. Those wings a sight to behold in every sense and yet- it was so hardly Andras' wings that held his attention in that moment. Rather, it was that very punch he so knew was coming as the younger Fae's body readily shifted. Matteo teleporting rapidly clear of that strike only to reappear on Andras' left. Those accented words leaving him evenly now as his arms remained folded across his chest in that manner of utter placidity all the same.

"These events could not have been avoided, her path was set- and set well before you had even met her. Nothing you did would have changed this eventual outcome. What good would my telling you have done other then distress you all the more to know you could not change it? You would have tried and failed still, Mon Amie."

Those words, if nothing else, were decidedly true. Lani's fate, her path, they had been set before she had even met the Fae man whom loomed before him. Telling Andras more plainly of that future so awaiting them both would have done little but distress them both. Though whether indeed Matteo himself held the right to keep it from them was perhaps debatable in turn. The very ethics of his role one the Frenchman had long considered. His gaze meeting Andras' own once more.

"As for breaking your own rules, perhaps it is fortunate they are your rules. You can acquit yourself of the crime and be done with it then."

This, Matteo was assured, was sensible advice. The Frenchman once more displaying his decidedly....relaxed view of rules in any sense. That irritation all but continuing to pour from the man before him all the same. Andras perhaps not yet ready to hear....logic. That near impish look so momentarily seeming to return to the elder Fae's features.

"I fear, Monsieur Andras, I cannot leave just yet. Our futures intercede today, there is a point we must reach before I can leave. Of course, you are welcome to make me leave but if that is the only punch you have to offer then you are sorely lacking. Your Father had a similar style- though he came closer to hitting me."

One eye lifted just so, these words, it seemed, gently though they were offered- entirely aimed at coaxing what remained off that aggression from within the other Fae by so insinuating Andras was not nearly the fighter his Father had been. Sometimes it was so simply better to let others....be angry- until there was no more anger left to be had. It was in those moments afterward, after all, that others were far more inclined to listen.

"I promised you all would be well when it came to your Mate. She is your mate, is she not? Do you not believe me?"


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