Matteo

It's tough to be a god

"Your Lordship, are you certain this is an entirely necessary endeavor that requires my assistance?"

The veritable tiredness in Gregory's voice was hardly missed. The maservent long having lost any interest in those activities he deemed 'extra curricular' to his Master's schedule. Attempting to decide which of the world's New Years Eve parties would be best attended so assuredly fell into this very category and yet- the near ancient warlock made some effort to cast his eyes over the selection of photographs Matteo had placed before him. The French fae long having come to the conclusion that Gregory was a terribly dull individual when it suited him to be. Matteo's own silver gaze shifted to eye the selection of pictures taken over the vast expanse of the years he had lived. New York City was always a veritable cornucopia of delight and yet, this year, Beijing certainly promised to be an enlightening experience. Rome also had its merits and Dorian would surely prove a capable host. Gregory's hand shifted to point toward one of the photographs then. "What about Dubai? You seemed to enjoy it when you went the last time. Or Australia? You could attend the Sydney festivity before returning to New York or Las Vegas for thos celebrations in turn. It is not a use of equatorial time difference I find terribly productive but I know you have never let such things stop you before." The note of sarcasm with Gregory's voice prompted a simper to the Frechmans lips. Amongst his vast myriad of staff Gregory alone was permitted those very liberties. After all, the man had been at his side for well over two hundred years- and Matteo was certain he had lacked a sense of humor for all of them.

"I fear, Mon Amie, we must decide later. My guest is arriving."

Gregory's features frowned, the warlock eyeing him with clear discord. "We have no guests scheduled for today, Sir."

"She only just decided to come, she is currently in the process of making her way up the driveway."

His very gift for future sight had forewarned him of his niece's impending arrival several days ago, in fact- and yet how certain he was it would be unwise to admit to his servent that very fact. Gregory's gaze narrowed ever so slightly, the mans lack of belief of his words distinctly clear before those grumbling irritations parted his lips, the warlock content to continue his muttered disagreement as he strode down the hall- no doubt to assure that the reception room and various lounges were in immaculate order. A faint chuckle of amusement hummed within the Frenchmans throat before he moved to rise from his seat- those photographs left upon the marble counter in the kitchen to be considered later. Matteo, instead, making his way back down the hall and toward the Chateau's front doors. His arms rose briefly above his head in a lackadaisical stretch, as if seeking to soothe tired muscles, an idea Gregory deemed laughable when Matteo had done little today save for reclining on various pieces of furniture and 'bother' his staff. His bare feet padded softly across the polished floors- Anastasia so hardly the kind of guest who would care whether or not he donned footwear. Nor would she mind those jeans and simple shirt. They had known one another far too long for that. Indeed, the Frenchman found himself decidedly pleased at her decision to visit. After all, it had been far too long since he had kept the company of his niece.

The sound of that doorbell echoed throughout the vast expanse of the chateau, Anastasia exactly six seconds earlier than he had foreseen, the very notion prompting a hint of curiosity to his lips before he reached for one side of those impressive double doors that made up the entrance to Chambord. That door was easily pulled aside to reveal the Russian Duchess, her youthful features as entirely perfect as always- even if her gaze held the faintest touch of tiredness. That very utterance of his name in her accented voice prompted a simper to his lips once more.

"Ana, it is good to see you, Mon Cherie."

The near ancient Fae stepped forward, his arms parting to embrace her in a gentle and yet affectionate hug before he stepped back once more, his silver gaze so unashamedly eyeing her- a hint of amusement tugging at his features. His gifts so often giving away what others strove to hide.

"Ah, you have not been to see Alexander yet. You chose to visit me first. Oui, I am certain this is a thing nieces do when they have scandalous things to speak off that they do not wish to tell their fathers, non?"

One silver eye rose upwards, those teasing words giving way to another softly chuckle before the Frenchman moved to offer his niece his arm. Matteo was content to guide her into the vast expanse of his chateau- that door closed softly behind them as they made their way back toward the kitchen. That home was nothing short of inexplicably grand and yet- they had both long since become accustomed to such things.

"So tell me, dear Niece- what things have you seen these past months? If you tell me something of interest, perhaps i shall tell you a secret in turn, oui?"

Matteo moved to guide them into the kitchen then, Anastasia offered that chair by the island bench as the Frenchman moved to step into the kitchen itself, the barest hint of his own abilities summoning a fresh and crusty baguette to that board before him. Matteo so effortlessly began to slice it into pieces as he regarded his companion. No conversation, he was sure, was complete without a meal. Another wave of his hand so readily prompted the appearance of two wine glasses, that fine vintage red already settled within them as one was passed effortlessly to his niece. Matteo content to keep the other for himself as he prompted her tale onwards. Ah, but how he had missed her company.