it's over, i'm through

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

It was hardly surprising in the slightest that Vhalla had gotten herself into some sort of trouble that had prompted the requirement of assistance. The woman's career, after all, was to perpetuate woe wherever she went. How long it had been since he'd seen the woman. They had been so close to being something more and yet...with Ivan's hold over her, Tetradore had found himself incapable of engaging in any sort of relationship that was similar in the slightest to Risque's hold over him. The Were-King pushed the white-haired assassin into the very depths of his mind, his shoulder merely shrugged in vague disinterest over the leather sofa that Vhalla had all but ruined. It was, he was certain, entirely replaceable, the whole flat originally meant for the girlfriend he had all but lost within his temporary dance with death. For a moment, he was willing to merely sip upon the whiskey within his tumbler, the man hardly oblivious to the way Dorian's gaze lingered but momentarily upon the vampire at his side and yet, whatever emotions existed there were all but lost upon him. Rather, it was the discussion of Samantha and his motorcycle that reignited his attention within the conversation, the Were-King so effortlessly referred to the motorcycle by it's very make, only to prompt clear inquisitiveness from the fae. Someone, it seemed, hadn't experienced the joy of a motorcycle.

Matteo's sudden interruption, however, prompted his emerald eyes to slide towards the Frenchman, a singular eyebrow rose and yet, he remained silent whilst Dorian made some effort to refute his father's -- or...he supposed maybe their father's declaration. How curious it was to consider Matteo as his...father. His emerald eyes almost seemed to linger upon the Frenchman for a moment, those thoughts twisting almost painfully within his own mind. He missed his own father and yet, despite Matteo's assurance, Tetradore found himself incapable of escaping that guilt of even considering allowing Matteo to have that coveted title of 'father', as if it was somehow a disservice to the man it whom had given him life. A soft sigh left his lips as his attention turned back towards the Frenchman's son, the fae quite clearly looking for someone to assist him in his defense. Tetradore merely met that gaze with a raised brow and yet, the Were-King made little effort to assist when it came to Dorian's safety. He knew well just of the depths of Matteo's adoration for the boy. The last thing Tetradore wanted was to do was anything that might about harm to Matteo's only son - to face the fury of both the Frenchman and Dorian's husband sounded...well, less than pleasant.

Thankfully, Dorian hardly seemed terribly put out by the lack of anything to do with the motorcycle, the Italian King so easily move on, instead, to speak of Tetradore's Ark and the less than righteous business that went on in the depths of the cargo ship. Tetradore himself was hardly bothered in the slightest on either the state of his flat or Dorian's thoughts of his own business. It was, however, his admittance that the apartment had gone vacant that seemed to prompt a curious glimpse from the Italian. Admittedly, he hadn't thought of Samantha in some time. The woman had all but vanished in the immediate aftermath of his death, leaving scarcely a trace with the exception of some rumor that she had returned home. Any emotional wounds he had suffered from her departure had all be dissipated in turn, time, it seemed, had made him too forget. Dorian's suggestion to leave out the apartment, however, caused his hand to rise to the back of his neck in an almost guilty fashion. "I had kind of forgotten about it." He admitted, life, of late, had been stressful enough that a vacant flat had been the last thing upon his mind. Perhaps he might consider suggesting it to Jackal, at least, or even Raven to see to. Such concern as the apartment, however, was something Tetradore was content to push off, for now, as Matteo announced it was time for dinner.

The Were-King paused ever so slightly at Matteo's sudden declaration that Alexander had moved a plate. His emerald eyes shifted between the two, that disagreement between them altogether swift, that lie one that Matteo was all too quick to call out with some sort of threat, one Tetradore doubted the Frenchmen would follow through with. Alexander himself, however, hardly seemed worried all the same as he took his own position at the very head of the dinner table. For a fleeting moment, Tetradore found himself almost uncertain as to where to sit. Within the Ark, he knew his place as Alpha and the head all too well but here...the Were hardly knew exactly where he fit in that already well-established family. It was but Dorian's own loose gesture to the seat across from him that caused a weak simper to flash across his own features as he settled in that suggested seat. He placed his whiskey in front of him, his vibrant eyes only turning upwards as Dorian and Sebastian spoke fondly of some time the pair spent in Spain - a place that Tetradore himself had never even contemplated visiting and yet, after his trip to France, perhaps Matteo would regale him with a trip across the world, one he had surely been sorely missing out on. Later, perhaps, he might query the Frenchman upon such an idea.

For now, however, Tetradore was willing to allow his attention to be reigned back in as Dorian declared he had a great many questions for him, much less that he too was allowed to inquire any in turn. Admittedly, there were distinctly few that lingered upon Tetradore's mind, the Frenchman had all but spoken at great lengths of Dorian within his younger years. His admittance of such, however, seemed to prompt a glimpse of notable surprise upon Dorian's features, followed by an almost...vulnerable confirmation. For a moment, Tetradore merely stared at the fae, as if he was taken back upon the man's ignorance of just how deep Matteo's affections for him went. "Uh, yeah, all the time. He told me about how you were stuck in the palace for like fucking forever and, that time you put gems on the wall or something?" His eyebrows furrowed before he shook his head, continuing on all the same in some peculiar effort to reassure the fae. "He told me you're an artist....and there was that one time he told me I should learn to flirt like you." Tetradore rolled his eyes at that memory. That comparison alone was one of the few the Frenchman had ever made between the two boys, if only for how poorly Tetradore himself had reacted as a youth to such correlations between the pair. "He gets stressed when you two fight." Tetradore shrugged, certain Matteo wouldn't be too greatly upset by those truths that fell readily from his lips - truths he suspected, for some reason, that Dorian needed to hear.

For now, however, those very utterances seemed enough to appease the man before Dorian's inquiries brought him to a topic that still continued to pain him after all this time - his sister. Her name was uttered easily enough, that recognition from both men altogether easy to detect before Dorian imparted upon him his own experience with the woman. Frankly, Tetradore was...hardly surprised in the slightest that Dorian and his sister hadn't exactly seen eye to eye. "Yeah....that sounds like her." He admitted with a soft sigh of regret. It was unfortunate, truly, that Nadya was likely to ever find any sort of enjoyment of his adoptive family. Then again, the woman herself had one of her own, one, he suspected, she was far closer to and accommodating of then she was of himself. Perhaps this was merely the way things were meant to be. It was the query of what he was, however, that seemed to provoke the interest of the vampire beside Dorian. Tetradore knew that look that so mirrored within the depths of those impossibly bright blue eyes, causing a near immediate weariness within him as his gaze fluttered briefly towards Alexander. He was, by habit, on edge when it came to the undead kind, even if he knew well that not all of them were like Risque. Isolt, after all, was one he so willingly offered his blood to on more than one occasion and yet, those walls have a habit of rising all the same anytime he met a new one.

Tetradore nodded ever so slightly in agreement with Sebastian's deduction, clarifying exactly what sort of animal rested beneath his caramel skin. It was, he was sure, that comment of his blood, however, that Sebastian desired to know far more of, even despite his explanation that his taste alone was...different. Dorian, it seemed, was far more intrigue within the taste of his blood then he anticipated, both of their gazes turning towards Sebastian who merely shrugged his shoulders. Although Tetradore could easily offer the vampire his wrist, his ignorance of Sebastian beyond Matteo's admittance he quite liked the man made him hesitate, at least for now. Instead, Tetradore's emerald eyes shifted towards Dorian as the Italian announced his own desire to see his animal half. His head bobbed ever so slightly, "I am sure you will see it one day." It was, he was sure, inevitable if the pair were going to establish any sort of...brotherly friendship that went beyond tonight. Even so, the Were-King found himself inquiring upon just why the question of his species might be considered rude in the first place. He watched that glimpse of confusion cross Dorian's own features before the Monarch considered the very depths of that question. He supposed, truly, that he understood that things of the past, of Dorian's own era, had been far different from now. A small sound of understanding left his lips and yet, how easily that conversation seemed to die off as Matteo arrived with a casserole dish in hand.

The very sight of that cheesy pasta dish prompted a warm simper upon his features - one that wavered only at Dorian's inquiry of what was wrong with the dish. He was, perhaps, a touch overdramatic and yet, as far as Tetradore was concerned, it was an utter travesty that Dorian's childhood had gone without something that he considered much a staple. After all, the very dish was Italian! Matteo's defense that he had left this dish for Tetradore to introduce to Dorian himself was met with a raised brow of clear disbelief. That excuse incredibly flimsy and one that he was more than willing to call Matteo out on. "Bullshit." His lips pressed together as he watched the fae move back towards the kitchen, only to pause mid-step and chastize him for his language! It was, admittedly, the first time Matteo had made any effort to correct his often crude language and yet, the man merely leaned back in his chair, arms crossed with a roll to those emerald green eyes. His gaze shifted only by that sound of Dorian choking on his drink and yet, the last thing he anticipated was for Alexander himself to come to his rescue. A small, almost smug glimpse crossed his features and yet, Matteo seemed content to retreat into the kitchen to instead fetch the rest of the dishes that surely waited to be presented.

The sound of Dorian's voice drew his attention and yet, the fae's words prompted a soft chuckle from his lips. "Uh, thanks, I guess." He responded, altogether uncertain if his language alone was enough to warrant Dorian's apparent appreciation of him. He watched as his adoptive sibling added some of his favorite dish to his own plate, only for the full extent of Matteo's cooking to come hear pouring out of the kitchen along with several other individuals that Tetradore had yet to meet. He watched as platter after platter was added to the dining room table until Matteo finally wandered out with the very star of the meal - the turkey. Tetradore was content to reach for the casserole dish that held his desired pasta, placing some of it upon his own plate as Alexander saw to carving the delectable smelling turkey. Really, even Raven might be jealous of what Matteo had done! Tetradore, meanwhile, was more than content to see too his fair share of the sides, his attention deviating only as Matteo turned his scolding to Dorian himself, only to insist both of them call him 'sir'. The sheer suggestion prompted a snort from Tetradore's nose, the man certain that Matteo knew better than to expect such from him. Thankfully, it seemed like he was hardly the only one who found fault with this idea, Alexander once again uttering of Matteo's own struggle with this all those years ago.

"I think I'd like to hear about this too," Tetradore interjected, quite near joining Dorian in coaxing those tales from the elder Hunter. Although the Frenchman had recently finally regaled him with less than exciting tales of his youth, it was still...nice to hear of tales of Matteo before he had perfected both who he was and the affinities he now so effortlessly wielded. A simper crossed his features at Dorian's sudden declaration that the Macaroni and Cheese was, indeed, good. "I knew you'd like it." He responded, those emerald eyes turning back towards Matteo in a clearly accusatory fashion.

aiden tetradore

you bring out the worst in me