He could feel the restless energy that radiated off of his Vector in near palpable waves. The feline within her wanted out, its impatience only further exacerbated by the very real silver bars that surrounded them with a suffocating oppressiveness. Ah, how many nights had Tetradore spent locked in cages such as this - ones far smaller and far less forgiving. After two decades, this was a blessing in comparison to the torment he had experienced at Risque's skilled hands in the name of some punishment he had earned for some reason or another. At the very least, here, there was no suffering to be had. Here, his body wasn't torn apart and pushed to the brink of its capability to survive. Here, his mind wasn't prodded and poked in some relentless desire to break him. If only Harlequin knew how lucky she was that this was the extent of what tonight would hold for her. The emerald of his irises fluttered closed, her pacing hardly of any interest to the Were-King. How willing he was to simply ignore the young woman entirely. After all, she was relatively safe here, Tetradore assured that they would hardly meet their end in this cage. All that was left for them to wait.

Such a fate, however, did not seem to rest easy for the young woman. It was almost...amusing that she might think this would come down to a fight to the death. As if she was capable of beating him. Though Harleyquinn certainly had a feisty spirit, she was entirely incapable of backing it up, not truly. Not here and certainly not with him. Tetradore had been forged in the fires of hell, he was the epitome of that deadly slave that Risque had made him. And she? A few brushes with vampires and she thought herself able of besting him? A soft snort of amusement left his nose as Tetradore insisted he would love to see her efforts in that endeavor. He could feel the weight of her gaze upon him and briefly, his eyes flicked open, one brow rising in an almost challenging look. He watched as she lifted her arms, her palms open in an attempt to goad him to fight her. The gesture, however, only served to confirm that which Tetradore had already begun to suspect. He was doomed to have the most idiotic Vectors in existence. Neither Henry nor Harley were...adequate to serve as his heir. How the hell did he get so unlucky? His eyes rolled in return though Tetradore remained where he was with his makeshift pillow.

It was, perhaps, some terrible...weakness within him that sought to reassure her, if only for some...innate bond the Alpha had with his creations. Risque, he was sure, did not yet want Harley dead. Starvation was an unlikely fate for them, for more reasons than one. He listened as she repeated a singular word back to him and yet, Tetradore could hardly help the way the corners of his lips twitched upward briefly, that smile altogether fleeting - gone again by the time she turned around. Ah, how pessimistic she seemed about her future. She had been a Were within Risque's domain mere months and already she was anticipating her demise? Harley might last longer than most but...in the end...he was sure she would crumble too beneath the pressure of Risque's unyielding malevolence. His lips parted a final time as he...encouraged..her to sit down. Tetradore hardly anticipated to be met with a hint of genuine honesty from the woman, her soft utterance caused the man to eye her quietly for a moment. It would be all too easy for him to subdue the cat within her, to push that shift down and away so it didn't perturb her. It was certainly within his abilities, as her Alpha. For a moment, he considered offering her that glimpse of kindness. That consideration, however, was sharply squashed mere moments later as she continued with a hint of unnecessary defiance, refusing to sit even if she could, as if he was some enemy to combat at every opportunity.

Frankly, Tetradore shouldn't be surprised. His shoulders lifted in a vague shrug, as the Alpha retreated inward, leaving her to her pacing. He hardly expected her efforts to continue to goad him, though perhaps he should have. He recognized what she was doing, albeit a bit belatedly. How many times had Tetradore himself taken out his frustrations, his helplessness, upon the only being who had bothered to keep him company within those hours of confinement. Was this some cruel twist of fate? Forcing him to experience what he had put Matteo through in his younger years? Tetradore was willing enough to continue that silence she seemed to desire of him, the wave of her hand was almost dismissive, and yet he made no effort to enforce his own authority of her. Quiet on the contrary, Tetradore simply watched with indifference as she took the heel of her boot to scrape a line across the middle of the cage. A line she apparently expected him to respect? Like he gave two shits about 'her side' of the cage. It was a fucking cage. What was she, fucking five? His head shook ever so slightly as he watched Harley make some...feeble effort to assert her own...territory. If it made her feel like she had some resemblance of control, what did he care? His eyes fluttered closed as his head tilted backward, once again comfortable repositioning within the silken lining of his jacket. Frankly, a cat nap sounded far better than dealing with his Vector's childishness. How the hell did Matteo ever put up with him if he had been like this? Though, he'd never tried to draw a fucking line in a cage like an idiot either. Maybe he needed to stop seeing himself in her.