It had been several decades, perhaps a century, since he had last seen any need to confide in any being the truth in regards to his decidedly extensive age. That very look Harley afforded him in response was hardly unanticipated. Her balantant denial of the fact perhaps a little more so and yet, he had come to learn decidedly quickly that Harley wa a woman inclined to speak her thoughts, more often than not, before she had considered them. Her insistence that he 'was not' well over two thousand years old only served to prompt that soft chuckle within him once more. His young companion, for several moments, seeming to contemplate that very information before decided for herself that it might possibly be true and that even if it was it did not excuse him from, one day, sharing the entirety off his life story with her. Oh how little she understood what she asked for! Matteo near amused at her unflinching determination in this. It was hardly a story he was particularly opposed to telling. Rather, it was simply a terribly long one. Two thousand years worth of stories would take more then one telling to find themselves fully told and yet- he near suspected Harley was one of the few being inclined to actually listen to that tale. The raven haired beauty, for all her fire and brimstone and quick wit- was an unusually perceptive being. One whom near reminded him off Alexander in the way in which she so effortlessly saw the heart of something- or he suspected someone. He would need be careful in sharing that story if only for how quickly Harley might deduce the truth of so many of those more....debatable moments off his veritable existence. That impish grin touching his features a final time.

"I am pleased I do not appear two thousand years old in the very least. To know my nightly beauty regime works is off great comfort to me. As for my story, you have my word, Mon Amie, I will tell it to you piece by piece."

Whether or not those pieces would be in the order the events had occurred remained to be seen and yet that promise was offered all the same. Matteo wholly inclined to accept she would not let him forget it either. How very much he might well have preferred to offer the tale of his own life then those far more pressing conversations that danced before them this very evening. That very depth of thought prompting that touch off his fingers to that crucifix he had worn about his own neck for more centuries then he cared to count. That idle, absentminded gesture a veritable habit when his thoughts were inclined to linger in those very places that robbed that simper from his features and prompted that ever so slight frown. A startling look perhaps, for a man so rarely inclined to frown at all, Matteo oblivious in that moment to the very extent of Harley's own perception and the veritable fire those words upon fate itself seemed to spark within her before she promptly insisted that it was Fate or Karma that required that fire more than any other. Ah, but he could hardly deny the amusement he took in her near unflinching determination! How very poorly Risque had chosen her latest victim. There would be nothing easy about this one. Harley, he suspected, near akin to Tetradore in her utter refusal to bend or break. How curious it was- that Risque had a near talent for finding individuals near born to resist her. How very much he enjoyed watching her fail not only to force their submission but too- to understand them.

His own head shook every so slightly in that faint touch of amusement before he set to work in placing those photographs upon the table in order of hierarchy. To understand how that 'Harem' as Harley called it was given to function would be an asset in itself. How very much he had to tell that violet-eyed woman and yet, for now, one step at a time was surely the most efficient method. That veritable pyramid of photographs neatly laid out to afford his companion some knowledge of that chain of command as it were with Risque herself at the top, her beloved Darcy below, Tetradore below that, her own progeny further down and beneath them a steadily lowering chain of workers and bar staff whose importance faded exponentially with how menial the task they took care off was. Few beings upon that very bottom rung, he suspected, would survive long enough to slide further up it. How unanticipated that query upon whether or not Risque might simply....forget her had been. Matteo wholly unwilling to lie to the woman and yet in turn how disparaging at thought it might be. Risque was rarely inclined to forget any of the beings she tormented. The best Harley might hope for was, perhaps, those reprieves when that woman travelled for business or found herself otherwise occupied and Harley, like Tetradore, being an afterthought. It was during those very times he had spent the most time with his youngest son, both in his childhood years and even now. Matteo having made it his veritable mission to take the young Tetradore away from the bar during those days or weeks. To assure he had some aspect of a childhood. A life. Even if it had near destroyed him each and every time he had needed to bring the boy back. It had been near over twenty years and he still remembered Aiden's sobs and tears and desperate clinging. His begging for Matteo to take him home instead. How those memories all but haunted him like a wound in his very heart he still couldn't heal after all this time. Aiden had not been the only one who cried on those nights.

"Hope....can do incredible things. Fate- I am inclined to agree with your assumption."

Hope and Harley, it seemed, were perhaps not well acquainted. The woman downing her shot expertly. Matteo content to allow those thoughts to push away those memories that threatened upon the forefront of his mind once more. Ah, but how foolish he had been to believe he could afford Harley that which she needed to know without those very memories so daring to scratch at the surface off his own facade. Matteo, perhaps, the best pretender off them all when it came to hiding the very depths off his emotions upon the matter and yet how readily they threatened at him all the same. The Frenchman so required to work harder then he had anticipated to prevent that veritable shift in his own shields. That mention of Risque's brother, in the least, so prompting that near unanticipated reaction in Harley herself and so inciting at his own curiosity and yet- from that very reaction- he had already guessed, perhaps, to some extent, just what had occured between Nathaniel and the woman before him. The near ancient Fae unable to deny that near protective streak that turned within him. How readily Alexander would berate him for it if he knew- allowing himself to care for another when he was already stretched so thin. Yet still, how very....displeasing it was to consider what harm might have come to the woman before him at the hands of another man.

Harley's veritable silence as she stared at that picture spoke well all on its own. These memories, it seemed, far more potent then he had anticipated and yet- Nathaniel was once such being he himself had not followed throughout the course of history beyond those moments when he had intersected with Risque's own life. How....unfortunate that he had not managed to see Harley sooner then he did. Perhaps he might have been able to prevent whatever so afforded her that frown now. Matteo querying whether or not it was her relations with Nathaniel that had prompted Risque's ire to begin with. Harley seemeding near assured of it. That insistence she could tell him things that would surely surprise him to his core prompting his own fleeting simper if only for the notion he quote suspected otherwise and yet, for now, the Frenchman so merely allowed Harley to continue. The woman speaking as if near on autopilot. As if trying to speak those words as blatantly ad quickly as possible might see them harm her less. The notion of a keyed car prompting the lift of a singular silver eye. Jealousy, it seemed, was very much the veritable catalyst for Harley and Risque. The young woman before him quick to attempt to shatter the vulnerability that briefly danced upon her face. A stark contrast to her normal demeanor and one that perhaps gave away the very depth of the damage done by this Nathaniel in turn. A story he would not push for tonight and she would not tell. His gaze meeting her own levelly then. Those accented words gentle and yet assured.

"One day, I suspect, you will be ready to tell me. I will wait until then."

That conversation shifted then to the rest of those photographs. Cobain in his eternal childhood and the Card Counting Cowboy whom Risque had taken for a lover and confident of sorts. Harley's near destiny to annoy him in particular prompting that near defeated raise off his arms. One Harley was all too quick to seize on. Matteo inclined to realise his own error to late as that veritable scowl found his features. His arms folding over his chest in a near boyish pout that was a near perfect mimic of Tetradore himself.

"Woman please, you did not have a brilliant trap, you are merely the victor of luck and my own poor choice of action. Yours is an accidental victory though it is about the only one you have owned so far so I suppose you may have it."

How readily that near impishness returned to his features once more at that effortless downplaying off her own momentary win! Matteo twisting those words to imply he was merely allowing her that win before offering her that warning all the same that ensnaring herself between Darcy and Risque would not end well for her. The violet-eyed womans comment upon those vampires taking each other out prompting soft snort of sorts as he lent back within that chair.

"Darcy and Risque are like the Hydra. Do you know the Hydra? It is a creature from Greek Mythology. Like a dragon with multiple heads. One head distracts you while the other aims the killing strike. If you cut one head off- it grows two more in its place. In other words, Mon Cherie, if one falls- the other will only take its place with twice the aggression. As for this promised gift, smile and curtsey- I look forward to it. I have already foreseen it in fact. I shall agree to visit the glasses at least every second week."

That simper so managed to touch his lips all the same at the anomaly of visitation rights over that pair of gifted sunglasses. A gift far less appreciated than that gun he had all but teased her with. The Frenchman content to imply she was nowhere near responsible enough adult to handle such a thing. Harley scoffing at the idea before declaring she had only ever had to shoot that gun three times- hitting a person on one occasion. Matteo allowing one eye to raise once more.

"So you missed the other two times? How many have I shot? I do not think I have ever been asked that. I cannot say I know. I have been in several thousand battles and well over three hundred wars. I have shot a very great deal of people. I joined the army when I was a teenager. Technically I never left."

This, he suspected, was not the answer she had anticipated. Matteo's fingers once more toying with that silver coloured crucifix that perhaps hinted at his own thoughts upon how much death he had caused in his life. That a veritable box he had no desire to open here and now. That conversation shifted to Tetradore. Harley's disbelief in his clear affections for the man near strikingly obvious. Not that he found he blamed her for her own reservations. Not after what had been done to her. If only she knew the real Aiden, how different her thoughts might be and yet, here and now, he saw little need to delve into the depths off his own sons life- nor that very connection they shared. Here and now Harley need only understand an ally when she saw one. That demand he give her a reason why she should not treat him like the others prompting that sudden simper to his lips again. Ah, but she had set herself up to fall with such words.

"Because I am asking you too, Mon Cherie."
She would not, he suspected, argue with that. Matteo near inclined to wish that conversation might so remain upon Tetradore if only because it was perhaps easier than the last of those photographs. That picture of Risque plucked from the table then to be held between his forefinger and thumb. The Frenchman unaware, in that moment, that Harley had, in her unique way off so seeing the heart of a matter- seen the heart of this. And how very, distinctly personal that war between Risque and himself surely was. The truth of it near glaring in that look he afforded that very picture for that fleeting moment. His own words, this time, near detached in their accented utterance. He had released Risque onto the world. He had misread the future. He had not taken her life when he had the chance. How many had suffered because of him? Because he had believed he could save her even after she had turned? How very much it ached even now to consider all those lives she had taken or destroyed because he had not stopped her. Harley's words managing to draw his gaze toward her all the same.

"She chose to become a monster."

-because she was afraid to die and I was afraid to take her life. Those final words so hardly parted his lips all the same. The sudden touch of a hand upon his arm seeming to break that reviere of sorts as he turned to glance toward the young woman beside him once more. Harley insisting Risque's existence was sad. Matteo not inclined to disagree with her as her hand suddenly found his own with that assurance it would 'be ok'. This, perhaps, the first moment of true surprise the near ancient Fae had felt in a decidedly.....long time. Some flicker of affection for the woman beside him turning within him then with a potency near unexpected. How long had it been since any being had assured him it would be alright? Was it not his role in life assure others? How much he appreciated that very gesture- even if he so hardly commented upon it in that moment.

"Thank you."

For those words, that touch, her simply presence? Just what remained to be seen as she withdrew her hand and wrapped her arms about her knees. A near stark contrast to her near fierce declaration from a moment ago. Ho very much he wanted to protect that violet-eyed, raven haired young woman beside him who had done what no one had done is so very long and offered him that comfort. Maybe, this time, he would manage it. Either that- or he would watch her die too like so many before her. There was not enough alcohol for these conversations and yet, for tonight at least, they had surely covered what needed to be covered. Matteo taking another shot as Harley collapsed back upon that sofa with that declaration they had survived those pictures. A wave off his hand so abruptly seeing them all disappear. The Fae content to lean back beside her. His silver gaze meeting her own as she stared up at that dry wall. Matteo wholly content to take that conversation in a new direction. Sleep. Harley insisting she could sleep when she was dead. That very response so prompting that roll of his own eyes and yet it so hardly took long for her to admit that veritable truth he had already known. Her gaze at his own neck and upon that crucifix as if Christ prompted that very answer. Not since the night she had been turned. As he has suspected.

"The sunglasses will not help you sleep, Mon Cherie. I have something else for that. You would be surprised how important sleep is and how much better you will feel, mind and body, once you sleep again. It will come, do not worry, but for tonight.....I will help."

His very figure disappeared near abruptly from that sofa then. Matteo appearing once more within that kitchen, her dinner plate in hand as he so placed it and that used cutlery within the kitchen sink, running that water over them both in a clear effort to clean. That task hardly taking a moment before his finger reached for that light switch, turning out the living room light. Leaving only that light in her bedroom to cast its faint glow across the room. The Frenchman appearing suddenly beside her once more and- quite before she could protest, reaching down to lift her effortlessly up and into his arms. One arm behind her back, the other beneath her knees.

"I think we have played about long enough. I think it is time I took you to bed, no?"

How decidedly teasing those words might be. Matteo, it seemed, inclined to return suddenly to their previous game. Harley's decidedly small figure held easily agianst him then as he stepped smoothly away from the couch with the woman in his arms to stroll into her bedroom. How very small and quaint it was. Matteo moving easily to the side of the bed it appeared she favoured to sleep upon before gently lowering her down onto it. Only to disappear a final time. Matteo, this time, reappearing atop her. One knee so resting either side off her hips, his form effortlessly staddling her own in a fashion far more bold then either had been before. His silver gaze so meeting her own near lazily now. Lashings off his own brunette hair falling into his eyes as he moved to push it aside.

"When was the last time a man so took you to bed, hmm?"

Just what he was asking perhaps remained to be seen. That impishness so hardly falling from his features. Matteo near assured he could hear that thrum off her heart once more as he lent smoothly forward. Those words hardly above a whisper.

"I think, Mon Cherie, I know several other games we could play...."

How close his lips lingered to her own. Affording them the faintest, lightest of touches with those words.

"....but then there would be no time for sleep."

His toned figure rolled easily from her own with that warm, ready chuckle. Matteo tumbling smoothly onto his back beside her then. A singular glance back toward her face only furthering that genuine laughter as his arms folded to settle behind his head. That amusement hardly fading and yet, that genuine tone had returned to his words once more.

"I will stay, here or on the couch if you prefer, Mon Cherie and you can sleep. Nothing will bring you any harm while I am here. I promise you that."

That soft smile find his lips once more. Matteo reaching effortlessly to flick off that beside lamp and send that room into darkness. The light from that moon outside casting a near ethereal glow between those curtains and into the room itself in a fashion almost...peaceful. His words coming suddenly, though gently then.

"I was born in 100 BC,the same year as Julius Caesar. I was born before France was France, I was born before it was named Gaul by the Romans. When I was born they called me by what I suppose I truly am. Celtic. That is what they called those of us who lived in that land then. My mother was fifteen when she married my Father, Noe. He was seventeen. That was common then. Both my parents were Fae. I am the youngest of four children. I had three older sisters. Two were born Fae, one born human. My family were farmers. I still own our family farm today. My parents and sisters are buried not far from where I live now. My Father and one of my sisters died when i was very young. My Mother only died about thirty years ago. That, Mon Amie, is all you are getting for tonight. Go to sleep....."


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