It had quite never occurred to him that the easy, casual, affectionate relationship that so seemed to all but blossom between his Father and younger brother might so spill over into all facets of life. Aiden's decidedly blunt critique of his own method of texting so prompting the Monarch to query just how Aiden himself went about addressing their Father through text- only for the Were to insist that he didn't. Dorian's surprise at such a bold claim was surely clear upon the man's features. The Monarch inclined to eye his brother near warily then as Aiden lent further back in his chair only to fish his own phone from his pocket. That ebony cell phone, as black as Dorian's own was gold, was handed toward him then. Aiden quick to bring up those messages he had exchanged with Matteo. Not a single one so beginning in the fashion Dorian's own had. Indeed, half those messages didn't begin at all, at least not in a proper fashion with any kind of greeting. The vast majority appearing to merely start from seemingly nowhere. Several were just pictures and at least one consisted of Tetradore simply having text singular words that Matteo had, somehow, understood. Some of those words, Dorian was assured, were not even words. The Italian inclined to scowl slightly at his Brothers utter lack of punctuation- or any grammar at all- in half of those texts. How casual they were with each other! How relaxed! How very....unlikely Dorian was assured he was ever going to text like this to anyone.

"Im baffled that you and he even know what is being said half the time. Sometimes you don't even use words."
That phone was rested back upon the table as Aiden completed that text message on their behalf. The Alpha sending that message but a moment later and quite before Dorian had been given a chance to review it! The Italian King so reached for his own phone back then only to hurriedly read through that message that had already been sent, his eyes widening distinctly at that last word. Heavens! What on earth would Matteo think? Dorian never before having so much as typed such a vulgar word into his phone let alone sent it! That very chastisement of Aiden's actions was all but caught within his throat by his companions attempts to answer his questions on those games he had so mistaken for board games. A mistake, it seemed, Aiden saw little need to correct here and now. Dorian, putting that phone away, so commenting instead upon how terribly violent Alexander and Matteo were inclined to become when Risk was being played. The pair, despite their ages, having all but ruined his very fine rug the last time they had played. Dorian so regaled Aiden with that very tale and that foolish decision their Father and Alexander had made to try to arm wrestle each other as a method of conflict resolution- one Dorian suspected Alexander held a significant upper hand within in every fashion. Tetradore's insistence that he was hardly surprised only further prompted that shake of Dorian's head.

"Together they are near on four thousand years old. One would think men of their calibre had gone beyond such things. Still, I suppose, they do often appear to have fun. Neither will admit it you know, at least, not aloud- but they need one another. After lives so long lived I suspect they are the last 'constant' in one another's lives, the one thing that never changes. They don't really know how to be without one another, after all this time. It took me some time to see that."

That Dorian was nothing if not strikingly observant of those around him was, perhaps, decidedly clear in that moment. The Monarch so having observed far more than Alexander and Matteo's relationship. Dorian, indeed, having veritably deduced those very reasons behind the relationship altogether. It was Matteo's relationship with Sebastian however, that caused the Fae King far more grief. Sebastian, true to his nature, his upbringing and indeed his very culture so refused, pointedly so, to speak poorly of Matteo and yet Dorian had lived with his lover long enough to deduce that while Sebastian perhaps did not outrightly dislike the French Fae he was distinctly uncomfortable with him all the same. The reason of why however so continued to elude him. Matteo, for the most part, seemed polite to Sebastian and yet Sebastian continued to insist upon some bizarre....memory he seemed to have of Matteo trying to steal his fangs. Dorian, in that moment, so retelling that very tale to Aiden in the hope his brother might shed some light upon the situation. After all, outside of Alexander, Aiden was by far the closest to the Frenchman and perhaps the most likely to be capable of finding that information the elder man might otherwise....conceal. Aiden's very promise to look into it prompting that satisfied nod from Dorian in turn.

The very mention of Art seemed to captivate the Fae King near instantly. A glorious, brilliant grin so dancing upon his features as he so delightely explained the pleasure he took in that activity and more so that very affinity he so had for such a pastime. It took but truly little effort on his part to produce that white pastel and so craft that flower atop the table. Aiden only just capable of rescuing his hot chocolate before several taps of the Monarch's fingers coloured in that glorious plant only for the Fae to reach into that table ina fashion and so bring that drawing to life. The exquisite flower was handed to Aiden a moment later. Dorian distinctly proud of the fashion is brother seemed to admire that work before the man queried his ability to draw and bring to life a car. Dorian never before having considered anything near so bold as that and yet.....how he wondered if it were possible. Cars, after all, so tended to be bland, black machines. The Fae King having seen precious few luxury sports cars his brother so hoarded. Dorian's own lack of knowledge upon those machines s prompting him to insist cars were not terribly pretty and by that notion not something he drew often. That almost hint of disappointment upon Aiden's features hardly missed. His sibling quick to dismiss any notion of further exploring those drawn cars as Dorians own head shook once more. A simper finding his lips.

"I fear I cannot simply 'not worry', Aidan. You have given me quite the idea and I simply must know if it is possible now. If I could manage to draw such a thing this evening, do you think you would be capable of driving it?"

Driving those cars, after all, was an impossibility for the Monarch whether drawn by his own hand or not. His inability to drive any of those machines surely limiting the testing of that very idea to merely proving it could be drawn rather than proving that it was equally functional. How readily his mind filled with possibilities! Dorian nothing if not excitable in the presence of any new idea.

"Let us not make it black though. They only ever bring me black cars to ride in. It's such a bland shade."

Dorian's head shook lightly at that very consideration before the approach of Marco so garnered his attention. That conversation that followed so carried out in that Italian tongue until that near blank look upon his siblings face readily prompted Dorian to shift to English. The Fae King readily providing that explanation of just what Marco had so requested. The utterly blank look that still persisted upon Aiden's features readily prompting Dorian to so request Marco return a little later. Had Matteo truly mentioned nothing of this to Aiden? The word title alone seeming to confuse him! Ah, but that Frenchman was an impossible creature! Dorian sighed softly at that very realisation of how little his sibling seemed to understand of that title, much less the fashion in which it worked. The Italian so settled further within his chair then before offering that very explanation, to the best of his ability. Dorian wholly oblivious to the very emotions his brother still felt of the confliction of the word 'father' to begin with. Aiden's tumultuous past, after all, utterly unknown to him. The near vacant expression he was afforded then so prompted Dorian to insist such a title was, really, purely honorary and so hardly required his brother to do anything- as if, perhaps, Aiden feared having to take on some sort of responsibility. That soft shake of his siblings head was largely unanticipated. Aiden insisting a moment later that he simply did not care what they called him. A look of clear surprise finding the Monarch once more.

"You....do not care? Mio Fratello, I have never met anyone in all my life whom does not care."

Those very words were spoken with a near...curiosity of sorts. That very expression upon the Fae Kings ever-youthful features shifted to one almost akin to warm amusement of sorts. What a truly, remarkably unusual creature his brother was! A warm simper so found his lips then.

"I will speak with the staff when we land then and we will sort something out."

If Aiden truly held little concern for such a thing then Dorian, in turn, was inclined to allow such a veritable faux pas of sorts to pass. There was no rule, after all, that Aiden need be called anything he did not desire and if he held no preference at all Dorian was assured they might find for him something suitably...unobtrusive. His brother, he had decided, was, in an unusual way- a rather reserved sort of person. One he suspected was quite good at going unnoticed and indeed, on some level he suspected almost preferred it- until a need for his authority arose. How few people there were like that in the world any longer. How sorely the world needed them and yet by that same notion, just why his sibling was as such he hardly knew. Perhaps tonight, after dinner, he might ask of him those more....personal questions he desired to know off.

Dorian shifted within his seat then. The Monarch reaching toward his own bag stored at the side of his chair. It took but barely a moment to retrieve that sketch pad from within it that Sebastian had bought him, Dorian so flicking through several pages before laying that opened book upon the table between Aiden and himself for his brother to look at.

"I fear i know almost nothing about cars. The only cars I ever see are the town cars I am driven about in. I don't know much about these either I will admit, but these- I adore. Even if I am not allowed to have one."

The Fae so gestured toward that opened page then- and the one beside it- and several others that followed after it. Each page possessing intricately, beautifully, exquisitely drawn motorcycles. The Monarch having drawn each and every line and wire and gear right down to the grip of the padding upon the handlebars and the ornate patterning of the tyres. The sheer detail of those drawings nothing short of astounding. Each drawing so perfectly coloured to match their real life counterparts.

"When Sebastian and I were at the airport in Italy before out flight home the last time we travelled, an entire shipment of motorcycles was passing through. All different kinds, all different brands. Our flight had been delayed due to unfavourable wind. My staff found the owner of the bikes, many of them destined for a heritage museum, he allowed me to sketch them. I drew those I favoured most."
Dorian so paused once more, allowing Aiden to flick through each of those drawings as he desired. His hand pointing toward one sleek, black bike then.

"That one is not the fastest I do not think but I like the way it looks. It might be my favourite I think. It is Triumph Bobber, or so I am told. Such a shame it does not come in gold."

Such a shame he was, simply, not allowed to ride on one. Dorian banned from that practice by not only his husband and Father but by the Italian government at large. The activity so deemed an 'unnecessary' risk to his life and one his country was unwilling to allow him the liberty off.

"When I was young my brothers and I we....we did not get on terribly well. They did not like me particularly but we often used to compete to see who had the finest horse. Cars and bikes not yet invented. We would race and jump our horses to see whose was the finest. I never won of course. I was an illegitimate son. My horses were those my older brothers no longer wanted. These motorcycles though, they are like modern horses, no? Far nicer than anything my brothers ever had."

And therein, perhaps, lay at least part of the appeal of those bikes to the Monarch, no matter how ingracious in might surely have been of him to consider it. His very adoration for those machines so stemming from the reasoning that they were far, far superior to anything his half-brothers might ever have had. That he had outlived them all long enough to see something he knew they would have adored somehow almost satisfying to him, even if he so hardly dared allow himself such ill-willed considerations.

"I shall get one, one day, even if only to look at and sit on when it isn't moving. As unbecoming as it is i shall take pleasure in having something my brothers did not. Would you care for anything to eat before we reach Italy, Aiden?