His feet dragged across the tile of that nearly too bright garage, that glass of blood dangling in his fingertips. The red liquid sloshed with his every step, threatening to spill over the edge without ever quite doing so. A part of the Were-King was ever attentive to Darcy's mismatch hued gaze upon him, the sheer weight of the vampire's attention could be oppressively furious at the best of times. Tetradore had long ago given up attempting to placate the Southerner. He hardly bothered to establish any sort of friendly terms with any within Syn after all these years. After all, their opinions of him hardly mattered in the end. Even so, he also made little effort to provoke the ire of Darcy, at least not today. The sensation of the man's jagged teeth within his skin was still far too fresh within his mind for him to comfortably risk finding himself under the far older vampire - and certainly not over something as meaningless as a glass of blood. His gaze deviated from Darcy and his bike as he placed the vampire's beverage upon the workbench, the television so quickly ensnaring all of his attention as he leaned upon the table beside him.

Tetradore had, admittedly, become rather skilled at tunning out the outside world that surrounded him. Syn was so often the epitome of unpleasant that fixating upon some minute detail had been a habit he'd adopted when he was young as some poor attempt at escapism. He hardly even seemed to notice that sharp, biting command upon Darcy's lips as the vampire's hand reached for a screwdriver that never came. It was the near barking shout of his name that slowly drew his gaze away from Hamilton's racecar, his gaze near empty as he simply stared at the Southerner in silent response. Sluggishly, Tetradore reached over towards the splay of tools on the workbench beside him. He plucked the screwdriver from it's place, wordlessly dropping it into Darcy's opened, awaiting palm. The emerald hue of his gaze turned away from the vampire and back towards the television, his arms crossing comfortably over his chest as the screen cut to Verstappen hot on Hamilton's heels. He watched those race cars tear around a corner, fighting for that first place spot. In comparison to the near overwhelming thrum of the music upstairs...the garage was almost...peaceful. Between the low sound of the racecars on the television to the familiar gentle thud of car parts fastened together with distinct care, Tetradore almost found himself at ease....almost.

It was the quiet sound of the metal tip upon the hard surfaced floors underfoot that caused Tetradore's gaze to flicker, briefly, from the television as Darcy rose to his feet. His body tensed subtly. Though Darcy's vampiric speed had always made him a threat, regardless of if he was upon his feet or not, there was something about the cowboy's increasingly close vicinity that kept him on edge, even if his emerald eyes turned almost lackadaisically back towards the television screen. He could hear that soft puff of air from Darcy's nose, though Tetradore remained carefully poised as the vampire walked past him to snatch that still warm glass of blood. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly at the sound of those near satisfied gulps and yet, Tetradore said distinctly little of it as the camera on the television program panned to Ferrari and the struggling Vettel. It was the sound of Darcy's southern drawl that caused his gaze to shift, the television screen in front of him playing an outro before switching to a commercial that, regrettably, was hardly interesting in the slightest. "Do what." Tetradore half inquired, his deadpan voice lacking that rise in intonation that should follow such a query.

Unfortunately, Darcy was quick to clarify that very question that lingered upon his mind, one that Tetradore had hoped the vampire would forget. The fairy. The stupid fairy that had looked too much like his father for his own comfort. He had been an....idiot to allow his emotions to get the best of him that night. He knew it...and everyone else seemed particularly keen to remind him of it. A blase look crossed Tetradore's features as his shoulder's lifted in a vague shrug, the Alpha suddenly of the decision that toothpaste was somehow interesting now as his emerald eyes turned back towards the screen and the multi colored layers of mint. Darcy, however, hardly seemed willing to let this one go without some sort of answer. Still, a soft snort left his nose at the vampire's insistance that he was hardly suicidal - as if Tetradore had that as an option. Still, Darcy was right. He had never interfered, even when he had watched Risque murder and turn Isolt - he had simply sat there like the good pet he was supposed to be.

That threat upon Darcy's lips, however, caused his brow to pinch together ever just so. He hardly intended to voice the truth of the matter - after all Darcy would only use it against him, or worse, tell Risque. Oh no, it was far better to play in to those very wishes his mistress had for him - wishes to be like them. "He looked at me funny." Tetradore responded bluntly, as if he had taken insult too great to be ignored, as if he had simply lost control of his own usually even temper. It would hardly be enough to disway Darcy and yet....why not play upon the man's paranoia. For several long moments Tetradore was silent, his gaze had returned towards the television before he added, as if it were a mere after thought, "....she also looked at him....funny. You noticed it too, didn't you?" He inquired, his gaze turning towards Darcy as if this was merely some conspiratorial secret to be shared between the two men over the woman that they were both...involved with...in some manner of speaking.

My heart is just to dark too care. I can't destroy what isn't there

so if you love me let me go

Deliver me into my fate & leave me with my sins
If you still care, don't ever let me know