His own mismatched gaze continued to linger upon that pair before them as Risque, in turn, seemed to contemplate whether or not some relationship had perpetuated between the pair. Darcy sincerely doubtful that after all this time Tetradore would seek the comforts of another man- let alone Cobain. That wretched little whelp barely passing for half a man let alone the kind that might attract the emerald-eyed panther. For all his own utter disdain of Tetradore he could hardly deny the once snivelling little boy had grown into a formidable enough adult. A luxury Cobain was enterally destined to be denied. A mistake on Risques part he was certain and yet Darcy was not fool enough to voice his opinion on his mistresses actions when it came to her progeny. The vampire long having since come to suspect Risque was well aware of her error in that regard all the same. Cobain little more than a waste of space and air and yet- he supposed - the boy had his uses as an errand dog if nothing else. In those affairs of a more sexual nature, however, Darcy was entirely assured Cobain remained distinctly...innocent. That very consideration befalling his own lips in that southern twang but a moment later. Risque seeming to muse upon that very notion before suggesting such a thing need surely be repaired. Lorelai's name spoken as a proverbial question toward himself. Darcy nodded his head in affirmation of that near silent conversation that had occured between them in that moment.

"I can 'ave 'er sent ta 'is room if it please ya? Might be good for 'im, fix dat fucking attitude of 'is a bit. If he gives 'er to much of a fight she might lose 'er patience though."

He could hardly deny it was a sound enough idea. Lorelai a veritable succubus and with her...talents to manipulate desire itself she would prove hard for Cobain to resist. Maybe that sort of release was exactly what the boy needed. Still, two vampires together in any situation could so quickly become....volatile. Hmm. perhaps Cobain would merely end up having his ass handed to him by the little blonde woman instead. Darcy finding himself equally as satisfied with that outcome. The barest hint of a simepr flicked across his features at the thought. The vampire moved to follow his Mistress through that club like a menacing shadow, the crowd parting in their wake as they approached that pair seated at the bar. Risque moved with that near feline grace to find her place nearer Cobain. Darcy choosing instead to shift to that other side and near loom over Tetradore in turn. The younger vampire and sad little kitty-pet sandwiched between Risque and himself with little chance for escape. Darcy's hand reached out as he passed, slapping solidly agianst Cobain's own head in an otherwise silent punishment. A reminder to remember his goddamn place at the very bottom of that hierarchy that existed between all present. Darcy a dominating force in near all he did, submissive to Risque herself alone. Cobain easily cowed. Tetradore however, was a far different matter. The mere sight of that panther so prompting a near instant internal bristling within the Southern vampire once more. With each year that passed tetradore only seemed to press further and further upon that line of Darcy's own tolerance. A tolerance that existed only because it was held in place by Risque herself and her....fascination for her pet. His Mistress' command that he was not to slaughter tetradore the only thing that had allowed the emerald-eyed man to persist this far in life at all.

Yet how dangerously precarious that relationship between them was becoming. Darcy's own control wearing thinner and thinner with each passing month and each moment the pair was forced to linger within one another's presence. Tetradore, in turn, as he aged, having slowly, steadily, begun to assert himself in turn even if in the most subtle of ways until both men were near locked in a constant, unrelenting battle. One Darcy was assured Risque knew off all to well nad only seemed to torment him with by allowing to persist. His mismatch gaze was dragged darkly away from the figure of the panther to focus upon that barkeep long enough to procure Risque and himself those drinks. Those Southern manners, it seemed, superseding his own blackened thoughts for that moment. That hate for tetradore pressed further down to continue to rot and fester- at least for now. That displeasure Risque took in both her pet and progeny was clear, the scowl upon her features indication enough of that. How dare they disrespect their Mistress so blatantly? How he loathed it when his Darling was displeased. That drink was handed smoothly to his Beloved then. Darcy unable to prevent that satisfaction that came with her praise, a part of him near worshipping each of those words.

His own drink was lifted to his lips then, Darcy relishing in that taste that so often took the edge off of his own hunger. The man content to return his attention to Tetradore then. Those words that fell from his lips little more than a murmur to the Panther alone and yet how easy it was to stoke that creature in biting. Tetradore snapping back at him in near the fashion he had anticipated, even if he hardly rose fully to that goading. Darcy's own hand extended then, catching Tetradore beneath the chin and so forcibly turning the other man's head towards him, one eye arching every so slightly in that near silent dare for cat to lash out at him.

" 'Ow 'bout yar look at me when I'm talking to ya, Tetty-Bear, hmm? Das a boy. I ain't forgotten 'bout me neck. I owe ya a bite. 'Ave a bit of respect, eh?"

His lips pulled easily away from his fangs then, that wicked, doubled weaponry smoothly displayed before Tetradore's head was all but shoved away from him. That injury the other man had given him hardly forgotten. Darcy merely waiting for an opportunity to return that favour. Risque's very assurance the pair were cranky coaxed that rasping chuckle from himself. His drink lifted to his lips again before Cobain's gaze locked suddenly with his own. The childs attempt at a goading him with those words merely prompting that narrowing of his gaze. Darcy so hardly finding irritation in those words so much as he found irritation in Cobain's boldness in offering them at all. Someone, it seemed, needed to be reminded of his place again. The little whelp stepping further out of line then he was willing to tolerate. Yet- it was Risque whom reacted first. That Queen of The Damned seeming to seize upon Cobain's words with predatory proficiency. As if she was determined to give him the very thing he asked for. Darcy all but assured no part of Cobain was capable of handling Risques affections- nor did he deserve them.

How very well he understood his lovers game in that moment. Risque content to torture Cobain with his own words, to near demand the child put his money where his mouth was and yet how it enraged him to watch her lay herself across that pathetic boys lap. Her words seeking to goad Cobain into that very action of touching her. As if he deserved that privilege! How darkly those instincts within him raged in that moment. That desire to appease his Mistress, to allow her to do as was her right to do so raging agianst that possessive, territorial nature within him that flared so potently. To attempt to stop her would be very near treason on his own part yet allowing Cobain to touch her was near vile to his mind. She was his. And how exactly she knew what she was doing. Risques gaze meeting his own for a fleeting moment, that irritation, that outrage, that very war within himself so distinctly clear within his mismatched eyes in that moment. Why did she torment him so? Surely she understood what she did to him!?

A soft, faint growl coiled within the depths of his own throat. Darcy shifting then to step suddenly behind Cobain, his hand reaching forward to allow his fingers to run, suddenly, down the back of Cobain's neck. How readily he could feel every ridge and disk of the boys spine. His fingers dug suddenly into that flesh, gripping loosely at the outline of that spine. That vampiric strength more than capable of crushing that bone into nothing. Nothing about Darcy so foolish in any sense. He would not dare tell Risque to stop, to risk his own punishment. The man instead choosing to join her in her torment of her progeny- if only to shift those odds.

"Yes, Cobain. What would yar do. Tell us."

How very trapped that vampire boy was now. Caught between Risque upon his lap and Darcy behind. His choice to please Risque so surely posing him at risk of a crushed spine. His choice to please Darcy risking Risque's own wrath. His only veritable 'help' that Panther seated at his side. Tetradore, through his own apathy, unlikely to attempt to help the vampire whom had tormented him in turn. Cobain ensnared between all three in one way or another.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.