How very pleasing it was to find a woman such as this in his company. Raylin, in her decidedly appealing outfit, moved to ease herself into the nearest chair. Her good humor was nothing short of apparent as she delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her words betrayed her casual, easy confidence. Ah, but how refreshing it was to meet a woman so very content within her own being. Unapologetic in who she was- or at least seemingly so. Her nature was as outgoing as the boldness of her outfit. The young woman's subtle observation that she suspected he might well have been able to take those three men with one hand behind his back coaxed a warm simper to his lips once more. Matteo chuckled softly as he reclined within that window. His every movement so offered with laconic ease as his silver gaze shifted to eye those men almost contemplatively once more.

"Ah, Mon Cherie, perhaps you are right. I fear we may never know."

He offered simply, that smile hardly faltering. How unfortunate that it seemed Raylin's very theory would not be put to the test tonight. Those three men, for now at least, far too occupied with their unintended 'victory' in having acquired such a drink to concern themselves with the Frenchman any longer. Peace having been restored to that bar with relative ease. Raylin's sudden query of his accented words however so readily brought Matteo's gaze back to the woman before him then. Her wholly correct assumption prompted a soft bob of his head.

"Oui. It was my sunglasses that gave it away, non? They are...very French."

Those very words were nothing short of playfully teasing. His fingers reached upward to pluck those decidedly non-French Ray Bans from his head. Matteo turned them neatly over within his hands as if to examine that utterly non-existent Frenchness. Raylin offered a wholly impish simper- as if his utterly undeniable accent was not at all what had given away that French heritage- before Matteo so neatly returned those sunglasses to the top of his head.Nestling them within his brunette locks. Raylin's very insistence she had been prepared to chase those men out with a bat if need be so readily coaxed that look of amusement to the near ancient Fae's features. How utterly amusing it was to consider such a femanine, slender creature as Raylin chasing men about with a bat and yet- how readily inclined he was to believe she would do just that. Little about the woman suggested she was meek in any sense. Nor the kind of woman inclined to allow herself to be treated with anything less than the respect she deserved. Raylin's insistence that he might surely have filled that glass with Bud Light and the trio of men would hardly have known the difference so managed to prompt another soft chuckle from the Frenchman. The young woman assured those men were some of her most arrogant customers. Matteo wholly inclined to believe her. They were, after all, at that very age where they had become....set in their ways with enough belief that they had seen all the world had to offer and by that notion their opinions were wholly validated. Ah, but if only they knew how young they truly were- and how little of the world they truly knew.

It was, however, the very world itself Matteo sought to escape tonight- his figure leaning forward to gently grasp Raylin's hand,offering her that introduction and too- that distinctly age-old greeting that seemed to prompt no small measure of delight in the young woman. Ah, but the men of today put little import on manners as they once had done. Those very rules of social etiquette had fallen by the wayside. Those notions for how a woman should be treated had been all but cast aside and yet- how readily those mannerisms still clung to the Frenchman. Those habits of the era in which he had been born so wholly ingrained within his very being. All men had been gentlemen once. Yet how few truly remained. Perhaps if they knew how entirely....appealing such manners so tended to be to the fairer sex they might be more inclined to observe it. Then again, those modern men with their distinct lack of redeemable qualities had, perhaps,only made it easier for Matteo to pluck those women who caught his own eye from their grasp. He had had truly little competition in that regard in decades. The art of flirtation was so decidedly lacking in the modern era. Yet how much easier it made it from the Frenchman all the same.

"Ray. It suits you well. As for the French, oui, I think we are very proper- but it might be so that I am biased."

A soft chuckle hummed within the Frenchmans throat, his silver gaze lingered upon her femanine figure once more before tracing upward. His gaze so readily found the unmistakable scar that marked her otherwise pristine,tanned flesh. How readily he knew what had caused that scar.More so, how certain he was on who it had been. There was only a single Ravager Vampire in all of Sacrosanct. That very being having hunted at Risque's side for well over a century. Matteo, for the better part of that century, had hunted them in turn. Darcy had always been prone to....violent intent and yet beneath the hand of Risque the man had become only more...predatory. There had been hope for him once. Centuries ago. Before Risque and yet how quickly any hope for redemption of the Southern cowboy had fled. That Raylin had survived was a miracle in itself and yet the fashion in which her smile faltered so readily gave away the undeniable trauma that surely still existed behind that event. Matteo, for now, so hardly gave away any hint of that which he had seen within the woman's future or indeed- what he knew well of her past. The near ancient Fae was wholly more curious on how Ralyin herself might choose to speak of that night as her pretty features frowned softly. The word 'Ravager' it seemed, was wholly foreign to her and yet such was unsurprising. Precious few ever knew that vampires held more than one species.

It was, Raylin insisted, purely dumb luck that she had enocuntered Darcy not once, but twice. The woman wholly aware of how truy fortunate she was to still exist- her fingers reaching upward to trace that scar as Matteo so merely listened. To meet a Ravager once was perhaps unfortunate luck. To meet one twice was far more inclined to be an act of Fate- one that, Matteo was certain, remained unfinished and yet, how uninclined he was to offer her such words here and now when it would do little save prompt her to worry of what could not be changed.

"You did well, Mon Cherie."

The silver of his gaze flickered upward, meeting the bright hue of her own even if only for a moment. Those words, perhaps, somewhat cryptic and yet how little intent the Frenchman had to explain them. Rather, Matteo so simply allowed Raylin to guide that conversation in a direction she desired. The young woman was quick to return that simper to her lips, even if her features remained tight, as she asked how he had ended up in a bar such as this. His business attire was perhaps as out of place as his accent. Her words coaxed a soft chuckle from his lips as Matteo lent back within that window once more.

"I spent the better part of today in Belgium being served food that was very nice but very tiny, coupled with wine that was very fine but very unexciting. This bar has provided me more amusement than all of Belgium did today and perhaps, I think, better company."

One eye lifted just so, his gaze meeting Ralyin's own once more. The attractive young woman so clearly the better company he referred to. Matteo made no effort to explain how he had gone from Belgium to America in so few hours. The Frenchman far more inclined to engage in that simple flirtation.

"....besides, it is the, how you say, 'dive bars' that so often hide the most intriguing of gems."

Ah, but whether or not it was that bar he truly referred to remained to be seen. The Frenchman unable to prevent that simper that found his lips at her efforts to mimic his accent. Her efforts...utterly abysmal and yet almost endearing.

"Ah, Mon Cherie, it means- 'my dear'."

Matteo paused once more, offering the young woman that chance to consider that veritable term of endearment and her thoughts upon it before his accented words parted his lips once more.

"I think a better question perhaps is what are you doing in this 'dive bar', hmm?"

c'est dur d'être un dieu.