it's over, i'm through

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

Tetradore could hardly help that distinctly derisive snort from his own nose at the notion of referring to any individual as 'sir', much less the French fae at his side. That very reckless soul within him was loathed to any such titles of respect, even if it so largely was due subservience that was so often both stolen and demanded of him. He took, admittedly, far more satisfaction then he perhaps should have that such combativeness he felt at such an idea was one that Matteo too had once mirrored in those far younger years. His own attentive gaze hardly oblivious to the fashion in which Matteo so slid down within his chair, arms over his chest in a rebellious sort of pout, the very likes of which so mirrored Tetradore's own. His eyebrow rose as his emerald irises briefly met the silver hue of Matteo's own gaze, that very glance so clearly judging the fae openly. That declaration that he should 'shut up' before even a syllable left is lips prompted yet another snort from the Alpha as he reached out to so playfully shove the Frenchman, the man far more inclined to those near boyish antics around the fae alone. He could hardly help the roll of his eyes at the very idea that he had, somehow, inherited that tendency to so fold his arms. "Oh yeah, such a legacy." He commented, that sarcasm surely thick upon his own tone. Still, his own attention turned all too readily towards Alexander at that promised tale of the Frenchman's own shortcomings a great time ago.

The Were-King was altogether content to nibble upon that turkey finally awarded to him as he listened to that tale that Alexander wove of an entire army falling to the beck and sway of Matteo's visions. How unfortunate it was that such images had failed to so accurately produce those desired results! He could only imagine how dreadful it might have been to have a whole army settled in a field without a singular thing to fight! It perhaps amused him the most that his very punishment for that was simply to watch sheep for days, a task he had seemingly failed at and yet, how such a sentence left a lasting impression upon the fae, considering those bustling farms Matteo now owned, filled with their horses and cows. Tetradore could hardly help that chuckle upon his lips at Matteo's sudden admittance that he had lost several of those sheep - much less that Alexander had already been well aware of the fact. It was, admittedly, almost nice to see that the Frenchman was still capable of being taken by surprise, particularly when the fae saw so very much.

His gaze was drawn from Matteo and Alexander, however, by Dorian's own suggestion of those places he hoped to visit, places Tetradore had never truly contemplated prior to this very moment. Traveling had, after all, been all but closed off to him for the majority of his life and now that he'd finally found a way around that restrictive collar, he found himself almost overwhelmed with all of those options so laid out before him. For a moment, he was content to contemplate those very countries, at least, until Dorian so abruptly extended that invitation to join him on his visit to Italy, if only to tour the Lamborghini factory with him. For a brief moment, those emerald eyes almost stare at the fae in surprise. After all, it was surely no secret to Matteo his adoration for his own Aventador and yet, how Dorian had known to suggest such a thing when the fae hardly knew of his existence at all seemed far more questionable than he could simply let pass. His intense gaze turned the man at his side as he quite near demanded to know if Matteo had so orchestrated this too. That irritatingly vague answer, however, gave way certainly enough to prompt a rolling of his emerald eyes, though Dorian himself seemed all but ignorant of that very part he had played. A sigh echoed upon his lips before he conceded, accepting that very invitation with some level of resignation on the simple condition that it was acceptable with Matteo himself. He knew well the fae would know exactly what he was inquiring, even if those words did not quite leave his lips.

That small bob of Matteo's head prompted some small reassurance within the man as his own head bobbed ever so slightly in understanding. Tetradore's emerald eyes turned almost expectantly towards Dorian, as if such was surely all he had required. Although he was not oblivious to his sibling's glimpse of inquisitiveness, Tetradore made no effort to explain himself, merely accepting the fae King's assurance that he would contact him soon so they could work out those details. He was, admittedly, all but thankful as Matteo so abruptly shifted that conversation, if only so cease any line of questioning on just why he might require permission at his own age. The very mention of a story however, prompted a small flutter of a simper upon his features. How many of those stories the boy had grown up on! Tetradore took a bite of that turkey, leaning forward slightly on the table as he listened to that tale of Dover and their efforts to so so storm that very city - across a ravine, no less! "Someone has a thing with bridges," Tetradore commented with a rare grin upon his features - this certainly not the first story that had so resulted in a bridge being built over what was viewed as an impassible structure. His gaze shifted briefly towards his sibling as Dorian commented upon the very thankfulness the people of Dover must have surely had to finally have a bridge.

It was, however, that very suggestion of discussing the things they were thankful for, however, that prompted a groan of discontent to leave his very lips. That glare, he was rewarded with, however, hardly dissuade the man from his sheer discontent of the idea. After all, he had distinctly little in his life to be thankful for. his family had been murdered, his sister viewed him as little more than the pet Risque so often liked to call him, his pack was left at her very whims if he failed to behave. His emerald eyes near glared at that plate in front of him, his irises shifted only at the sound of the English accent across from him. That very answer was so...perfect and yet, Tetradore could hardly help the way his lip curled ever so slightly at the suggestion of it. Admittedly, he couldn't argue that he wasn't thankful for Matteo - the Frenchman there for him when he so needed it most, pulling him back from the very brink of oblivion time and time again and yet...maybe life would have simply been...easier if Matteo hadn't further fostered that rebelliousness within him. He tried to push such thoughts from the forefront of his mind as his cheek came to rest upon his hand. "I'm thankful I've never had to do a fucking Thanksgiving before." He commented dryly, as his hand reached for his drink, only to pause in contemplation. "And for alcohol. Your turn." His gaze turned towards Matteo as he brought that drink to his lips, that hard stare surely near challenging the Frenchman to force him to utter any true word of thankfulness. Tetradore, as it was, was simply far more inclined to leave then contemplate any true blessing he had in a life filled with difficulties. At the very least, he had tried....sort of?

aiden tetradore

you bring out the worst in me