There was certainly little doubt within Tetradore's mind that, left to his own devices, his evening with the petite young woman hardly would have gone in quite the same fashion. The Alpha had a tendency to be aloof and reserved, requiring a particular level of care, assertiveness, and submission in order to gain any true traction one on one. Matteo, on the other hand, was a whole different set of rules. The seemingly youthful fae had seen all of him and had still come back time after time. It was with the fae Frenchman alone that Tetradore allowed those often tightly held walls to slip, just enough to reveal even a hint of that softer, kinder, and occasionally charismatic side hidden beneath that enigma. Frankly, the man was hardly surprised at that idle realization that the fair featured young woman had never been hit before. She certainly didn't look like the type to frequent those shady establishments that Tetradore literally lived within. He knew what it was like to take a punch, he knew what it felt like to have more than just a swollen cheek. He was glad this was all that came from her encounter with his drunk patrons, even if the man hardly felt the need to voice aloud how lucky she'd surely gotten to get away with little more than some discoloration.

That impish simper upon Matteo's features caused the were-King's eyebrow to raise ever so slightly, the man entirely assured that glimpse of mischievousness was a near permanent fixture upon the Frenchman's lips. Even he could hardly help that small snort that left his nose at Matteo's assurance that they particularly excelled at rescuing damsels in distress. Her own sardonic response prompted a twitch to his lips as he shot his faux father a pointed glance. "I dunno, that seems exactly Matteo's style. Slide in at the last minute and take all the credit for it all." He retorted with a clear teasing tone to his baritone voice, clearly placing himself as the rescuer in this. It was the exact sort of 'rescuing' he excelled at - the kind where he had to do nothing at all. Even despite his own measure of badgering, he knew well what Matteo was doing - attempting to play the wingman yet again in a way he had done many times before, though to what end, Tetradore had little idea. He was hardly denying that she was certainly easy on the eyes, but he had little consideration for anything serious. Not now. Not after....well....everything.

That thought, however, hardly lingered upon the forefront of his mind for terribly long before it was interrupted by the heavy thud of...paperwork. That look of discontent at the number of things that required his signature, however, so quickly chased away any hint of that joyousness, the man easily giving in to signing it all tonight in favor of being awoken in the morning for it. He was still eying that stack of papers when the conversation shifted towards Arya's own species. It was curious, really, to find an aquatic were-creature. They were distinctly rare, if only how infrequently most people came across them to be bitten in the first place. Though really, he supposed it was perhaps just as peculiar to come across a panther in anywhere beyond the Amazon too. He listened with vague curiosity to Matteo and Arya's exchange of her foreign homestead, having particularly little to contribute when Tetradore himself had never been out of the country. That world beyond him was quite near a mystery, one he had never contemplated having the opportunity to explore to begin with.

He had hardly expected that sudden declaration that Arya was lucky to have stumbled up the Ark and, in turn, himself. He knew well how hypnotising the vibrant green of his irises could be, the sometimes swirling color had been the birth of an affinity he rarely utilized and yet, to so brazenly declare that color attractive had crossed a line, of sorts. That ice bag was quite near launched at Matteo but moment's later, his arms crossed over his chest at Matteo's French exclamation. It was, perhaps, the singular mention of food that prompted Tetradore's demeanor to deviate from that almost boyish pout. Matteo's antics were all but quickly forgotten in the wake of the man's Macaroni and Cheese, a food he had quite nearly grown up on, beyond the steaks he had been more often provided. Tetradore was all too used to taking that lead, directing the group towards what would be a relatively empty kitchen, given the hour. It was only Arya's assurance that no one would believe her tale that caused Tetradore to glance back at the pair, hand in hand. This, he was certain, was relatively tame in comparison to some of the nights that he had with the Frenchman.

That mention of his twenty-first birthday prompted a warm grin upon his features, one followed by a distinctly amused chuckle at the mere memory of it. "I will never forget your speech. It was very....eloquent." He commented, that very memory still capable of bringing the man almost endless amusement. Arya's sudden comment that her life was boring in comparison however, only furthered that rich sound of laughter from his lips. "You have no idea." He commented in return, though weather or not that hectic lifestyle the two men held was a good thing still remained to be seen. The were-king led the way towards those stools, knowing better than to get in the way of the Frenchman within his domain. Rather, he easily reclined within the chair, letting his feet prop up at the far edge of the countertop and away from Arya and himself. That inquiry of what the place was, however, caused those vibrant irises to turn towards Arya before he prompted a small shrug. "It's a bar...fight club....thing." He commented in a vague in description of the place.

His gaze shifted only by that sudden French outburst, glancing briefly over that box in Matteo's hand. "I dunno what the fuck you expect me to eat if you're not here." Tetradore retorted. Though he hardly spoke French, he knew well Matteo's feelings of that processed pasta dish. Tetradore had never made an effort to learn how to cook, the hobby hardly intriguing to him in the slightest rather than eating it. Unlike Arya, Tetradore quite near anticipated the man's rather grand show of pulling those ingredients from the cupboards, clearly intending to make his own pasta. Theyyy were going to be here for awhile. "You might want to get comfortable." He muttered softly to the young woman at his side. "In the cupboard by the stove on the right." The were-King commented at that sudden inquiry directed towards him, only for his attention to shift towards Arya and her admittance that she was...relatively alone within the city. "I guess at least they are close nearby though....you must really enjoy your work though to leave them." He was intrigued, really. After all, Tetradore had lost every member of his family, in one way or another. He could hardly imagine leaving his family for something like....work.