The appearance of that violet eyed woman from the depths of her bedroom only moments after he had seized that plate off food was hardly unanticipated. This was, after all, her very home in all its decidedly small and quaint appearance. Matteo readily having anticipated much off this evening if only because he had already seen it played out before his very eyes. At least for the most part. The future was a fickle thing, perhaps not unlike that raven-haired beauty herself. Prone to shift and change- and so requiring he kept one eye upon it lest it deceive him entirely. Hmm. Perhaps it was a better analogy then he had first anticipated. The Frenchman inclined to allow that ever-present simper to linger but a little more at that secret amusement he found within his own considerations. An amusement that only seemed to increase at the sight of the shirt Harley had chosen to adorn herself in for their unanticipated meeting. His silver gaze lingered upon it for several moments before shifting ever so slightly lower to allow his eyes to sweep but briefly across the rest of her figure. Those small shorts rather nicely accentuating that length of her leg. Matteo making little attempt to hide that sweep off his gaze. A part of him inclined to wonder if he could coax her heart to betray her all over again as it had done before. Such thoughts turned within his mind before his attention returned to that plate within his hand and that near offhand comment upon her poor dinner so fell from his lips in those accented tones. Harley, as he had suspected, unwilling to allow such a comment to go unremarked. His own shoulders shrugging loosely at her very words and yet how that near wry grin lingered so within the depths off his gaze!

"Ah, Mon Cherie, if you were not going to bother with me- you would not have started that sentence as you did with such goading words."

How readily they both knew that game had simply been restarted anew. Matteo stabbing at another potato with little hope for its improvement upon the last one as Harley herself strode forward. Those changes within her movement were subtle and yet how readily he noticed them all the same. The young woman possessing the very fluidity of the feline that had come to possess her in turn. He would need see Aiden again shortly. If only to make sure his youngest son had not....suffered in turn from this very transformation Matteo wholly suspected had not been willing upon the part of either of those directly involved. How quickly he thoughts might be inclined to turn towards That Woman and all she had done and yet how unwilling he was to allow those very thoughts to distract him now as they were all but cast away. The Frenchman instead inclined to watch as Harley reached for a potato in turn only to bite down upon it as if in consideration before promptly declaring it tasted exactly as one should and that the very sad blandness he so claimed to detect was, in fact, the very sting off his own loss from their first meeting. How decidedly varying their definitions were of 'loss'. Matteo so merely allowing one eye to arch upward as he was offered that smirk in turn. The near ancient Fae's features so suddenly shifting into a look far more serious.

"Do you hear that?"

His own gaze shifted abruptly towards the living room, Matteo waiting only so long as it took for Harley to near freeze in place in turn and stare towards that perceived threat. The raven-haired woman, it seemed, still somewhat on edge and yet he so hardly blamed her in any sense. Yet- even her most recent of tragedies, it seemed, was not enough to spare her his own deviousness in turn. Those words uttered smoothly now upon that accented tones once more.

"That is the sound of the stunned silence of millions of potato farmers who have been rendered speechless by your belief, that this, Mon Amie, is how a potato tastes."

That ready chuckle hummed easily from within his throat then if only at that momentary look upon the young woman's features. Matteo taking another decidedly deliberate bite of that sub-par food if only to tease at her just a little more and perhaps, for a singular moment, steal her mind away from the worries and fears and confusion that had surely done nothing but turn within it for these past few days and nights. Sometimes, the mind most of all, needed that reprieve of something so foolish as potatoes- even if Harley so failed to perceive his very actions in this. Matteo shifted then to place that plate back upon the table before them. The Frenchman near unwilling to try that meat if only for the fear off how poorly (or barely) it was cooked. His gaze once more returned to Harley's own as that impishness so faded, the near ancient Fae, this time, offering her a far more serious question. That simple....care within those very notes this time so nothing short of genuine in their embrace. After all, for all he might tease at that woman he could not dismiss that simple care for her that had come with that intrigue in turn. She had been witty, vibrant and wholly sarcastic for the entirety of their last meeting and yet behind those very traits, that sharp mind and equally sharp tongue there had existed a truly strong being. A fiercely independent, spirited one. How very much he hoped that vampire woman had not ruined something so rarely found in this world any longer. Harley, in the least, hardly having failed to lose those everready sharp words. Even if that smile that found his lips, this time, was far more rueful.

"I can see many things but emotions are not always one of them."

How easy it was within the depths of those visions to deduce physical condition or indeed those far more potent emotions. Anger or grief or joy after all were so easy to see and yet- even he held no ability to see into the depths of those sufferings people did not speak off with words nor show upon their faces. Some emotions far to hidden for even his own powers to find. Perhaps even Harley herself had not found them yet, not enough to feel them. The mind, after all, so often went to incredible lengths to protect itself from feeling that which it did not desire too. Those very words he offered perhaps some indication it was those very deeper emotions he asked after- even if he suspected she was not yet ready to share them. One day, perhaps. One day he might do for as he had done Aiden so many other throughout history and simply....listen. Harley, for now, reaching for perhaps the easiest emotion to find within her varied arsenal only to brandish that anger and confusion towards him like so many before her in turn. Matteo, this time, so merely allowing her to speak her piecein full before his head so softly shook. Matteo halted as she held her finger toward him and so gathered herself, that change within her gaze not unmissed and yet she was quick to restrain that cat. Her control, in the least, was not lacking. Matteo speaking once that finger had been lowered.

"I told you of your future in as much as I could. I am sorry it was not enough. But you are wrong, Mon Cherie. Had I told you exactly of what would have befallen you, you would have fled town and for well over six months you would have struggled each day to survive and in the end it would be for nought. She would not have forgotten you nor grown bored. She would have sent another to retrieve you- one you have not yet met and yet are destined to meet all the same. You would barely have survived him and what was left of you in that future was...a far worse fate."

He saw little need to elaborate further on those alternate versions of the future that had once existed. To know that one path had led her to more pain then she had already suffered was surely enough to at least prompt some level of her understanding for why he had, in the very least, so attempted to prevent her from that path all the same. That simple wave of the Frenchman's hand so readily saw that dish of butter appear within it. Matteo reaching for the knife already upon the table to cut that last remaining Sad Potato in half, that butter slowly and liberally applied to each half. Matteo working near methodically and with the practised ease of one used to such things as Harley sought to make some effort to answer his earlier question. The Fae oblivious, in that moment, to her struggle to prevent herself brushing against him in search of that scent of himself she had taken favour too all the same. That soft snort of amusement finding him once more at her assurance she was 'murdery'.

"I have known many Were's in my time, the, how you say, 'murdery' feeling will pass in time. The desire to rub on things may not. Though you will get better at resisting such urges in your human form at least. As for surviving, Mon Cherie, you will do better than that. I have already seen it."

How readily that grin found him once more then. Matteo, if nothing else, so eternally seeming to find even the vaguest flicker of hope in the darkest of places. His gaze glanced but briefly up toward her then as his hand waved a second time, those sprigs of thyme appearing now as he so began to break them over those potatoes, that salt and pepper appearing and added in turn. The ancient fae seeing little need, as before, to further explain his ability to summon those things he desired. Harley's dining room table so quickly becoming a veritable pantry of ingredients. Her sudden query of why so prompting him to pause in his work. His hand batting her own away in near the same motion. Aiden's attempts, for years, to pilfer food before it was ready so having afforded the man a decided practice in that talent. Matteo sighing softly all the same as he regarded her now, the vulnerability, for just a moment, flickering beneath the cracks in her armour and oh how it....struck at him. As it has always done. As it always did to see those he could not....protect near as much as he desired to. Why. That very question perhaps the most potent in all the world and one even he so often struggled to find the answer too. One that, in this case, so surely had more than once answer. Harley so insisting he owed her the truth. Ah, but if only she knew what she asked for in that moment she would surely not desire it at all.

"Because, Mon Jeune, for reasons even i do not understand, fate has crossed many of our paths together, paths we do not always like and cannot always change and yet I have seen its end and though you will not believe me, in the end- all will be well. Trust me in that- if you will trust nothing else."

Aiden, he knew, did not believe those words. Harley perhaps inclined to discard them in turn and yet hope, no matter how small, was so often a far more significant thing then any gave it credit for. Just why the very world had so designed the paths of so many to cross he hardly knew and yet he was perhaps as determined as Alexander to forge his own fate in one aspect or another. Perhaps Fate had made him its servant as That Woman had made Tetradore her own and yet- Matteo was not at all inclined to cheat with those very gifts he had been given to serve with. That seriousness of sorts, so seemed to leave him once more in those moments. The Frenchman so summoning that faintest touch of that olive oil to drizzle over that last potato before pushing one completed half, in all its grandeur, toward harley. The other lifted to his own lips. That taste, now, nothing short of utterly exquisite.

"As for what I owe you- I have given you the gift of proper food. You may thank me at your leisure. As it happens though- I think perhaps I have something else to offer but...."

That teleportation so readily grasped him then. Matteo abruptly disappearing only to reappear behind her then in much that same position they had taken up within her tattoo parlour, her back pressed neatly against the hard plains of his chest and yet, this time, he made no more to touch her beyond that simply contact.Yet that, surely, might be just enough to prompt what he desired from her. His breath warmth against her shoulder and neck once more.

"Vous devez admettre que vous n'avez pas gagné. That is, you must admit you did not win."

That sift chuckle easily hummed within him once more. Matteo abruptly teleporting out off her reach a second time only to reappear, this time, upon her sofa. The Frenchman content to lie the length of it, his arms folded behind his head as it rested upon the arm of the couch- as if he belonged just here. That impish simper firmly in place.

"Do you care to admit defeat or shall we play again?"


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