Matteo

It's tough to be a god

It was almost romantic really, in a sort of...tragic fashion. They had survived all that within the depths of Syn and fate seemed so determined to have it all end here in this rather second rate parking lot that Matteo was certain had been in dire need of landscaping assistance for at least ten years. Harley dove almost heroically to catch her companion as he fell. Matteo, for his part, remained content to sit cross-legged upon the edge of the roof above the pair as Harley gently lowered the unconscious warlock to the ground. Her face a picture of genuine concern. For several moments still the Frenchman was content to merely...watch as Harley lent over Sylvester, the stress clear within her features before she reached for the man's fallen hat- only to place it neatly back atop his head as if this might somehow restore the fellow to some state of health. Ah, sacrebleu! Was this what the youth of today believed first aid was!? Matteo, despite himself, was unable to prevent that simper of amusement that found his lips at that interaction. How utterly oblivious the young woman was to....all that had occurred today- and all that would occur because of it. Her each and every decision this afternoon having set her fate on a course she had never seen coming and indeed, Matteo was inclined to believe she would vehemently deny, had he made any effort to forewarn her off it. Still, perhaps, this fate required at least a little of his....interference, before it trailed too far off the rails and became entirely unsalvageable. Surely fate would forgive him for....tweaking it a little. Perhaps not. Perhaps it hardly mattered. Fate would take it out upon Matteo himself, rather then harley and that, perhaps, was a price he was willing to pay if only to afford the future he had seen a chance.

The very sound of his voice seemed to jolt the raven-haired woman away from her phone as she glanced upward, her violet gaze meeting the silver of his own as his features formed a ready grin. One Harley hardly seemed inclined to return. The woman daring to offer him what he was almost certain was a scowl. Ah, such nerve. It was almost as if she were not overly delighted at his presence. Matteo's hand gestured loosely toward the fallen warlock with the ready insistence that this was certainly why Fate rarely gave Harley nice things. Look how she treated them. That near blatant confusion upon the young woman's features only seemed to prompt another chuckle from himself before her ever present sarcasm was offered readily back. Her tone, this time, holding those notes of weariness as matteo so merely allowed his shoulders to shrug. What did he mean?

"Today, Mon Cherie, you have defied fate, escaped fate, met fate and forged fate. All in one. This, oui, is no small task. I think though, that it would ruin all the mystery of such a thing if I told you which was which and who was what."

Ah, but how distinctly aware the Frenchman was of how little sense his words made in that moment. That very sentence was a near deliberate...tease of the woman's earlier insistence she had not understood what Matteo had believed to be a far more logical conversation. Her frayed nerves and tired demeanor, it seemed, affording her little mercy from the ever-impish Fae. Ah, how it annoyed his own family no end when he did such things and yet- it was the very sight of the blood beginning to run from the fallen warlock's nose that drew Matteo's gaze then. The unfortunate fellow...hardly had long. Not when his shattered ribs had pierced into his lungs. The air Sly so desperately needed was rapidly filled with blood instead. The Frenchman, in that moment, offered Harley that very diagnosis of an injury he had seen countless times. The concern within the young womans gaze hardly faltered, her eyes shifting from Sly to Matteo and back again before querying whether or not the warlock was going to die here in 'the fucking parking lot'. Matteo's head rested laconically within his hand, the anicet Fae allowing his own gaze to rest briefly upon the warlock before meeting the bright, vibrant glow of Harley's own. His words, this time, were far softer in their accented tone.

"Yes, Mon Cherie, that is one fate."

A silence of sorts seemed to persist then. Matteo distinctly aware of those words Harley was...loath to say. Loath to ask of him. After all, for all they had been through together, for all the intimacy of their own relationship, they do not- ask for anything. Not from one another. Yet this, perhaps, was an.....extenuating circumstance. One Matteo had already resigned himself to resolving whether or not those words passed her lips and yet, the near ancient Fae found himself near...curious, as to whether or not that raven-haired woman, for the sake of the warlock, might dare to do as she had never done before. Hmmm. How very much it might surely say for that future path if she did. How very much it might say if she did not. Perhaps she needed a little prompting. A faint, near impish simper seemed to dance but momentarily upon Matteo's lips. That look readily hidden as Harley turned to face him once more. The Frenchman abruptly chose to inquire after 'how she had been'. As if here and now was the very place of idle chatter. That, it seemed, was near key to prompting her words once more as she offered him a near dubious glance. Her words, once more, laden with sarcasm. That very mention of French Ghosts prompted the lift of one eye as he shook his head.

"I know nothing of ghosts. Perhaps your friend was merely seeing things."

Ah, but how that simper tugged at his lips all the same. That silence seemed to persist once more and yet, this time, it so hardly lasted long before Harley's voice reached him once more. The young woman uttering that single, vulnerable and yet...profound request to fix her companion. Matteo's features softened near readily in that moment, his head merely nodding before Harley insisted Sylvester was innocent, afraid of doctors apparently, but innocent- and so hardly deserving of dying within that parking lot. Whatever words Matteo had been about to utter were once more halted as she glanced up toward him, insisting he get down from the roof before he gave her a complex. Another ready chuckle hummed easily within the Frenchmans throat then, Matteo abruptly disappearing from that roof only to appear beside Harley now- one hand resting upon her shoulder, affording it the softest of squeezes in a subtle and yet simple reassurance.

"I would have fixed him, Mon Cherie, whether or not you had asked it of me."

There was little save for simple truth in those words. His silver gaze inclined to meet her own, free of any tease and banter as so often existed between the pair. Fate, it seemed, had merely wanted to see whether or not she would say those words. Ah, but how often it favoured beings as brave as she. Matteo moved to step gently past Harley then, his gaze roving over the fallen warlock at his feet- only for a sudden spark of fire to draw his attention. That little, flaming fox had reappeared. The creature sat at its master's shoulder as its gaze moved from Matteo to Harley and back again with wide, cautious eyes. It was instinct, perhaps, that prompted the Frenchman to crouch down, his hand held gently toward the little animal.

"You must be Mihai."

The fox's ears flicked in some faint acknowledgment of its name, its nose extending to sniff lightly at Matteo's hand before it stepped backward once more, Matteo's gaze shifting to glance back toward Harley.

"Do you know what is unusual, Harley? That creature is both a familiar and...not at the same time. It is very strange. It is almost like.....his soul."

Matteo's head shook lightly, dismissing that notion for now before that sudden, searing rush of power seemed to ripple within the air, Matteo extending his hand forward and yet- once more, it was towards that little fox he reached. The flaming animal, this time, so hardly seemed to hesitate as it rushed forward- pressing its forehead willingly into Matteo's palm as that healing energy spilled over it in waves. The near anicet Fae withdrew his hand softly, Matteo pushing himself up to his feet, the little fox affording him a near delighted look before it seemed to flicker and spurt and disappear entirely. A simper of satisfaction so readily found the Frenchman's features then, his gaze shifting toward his companion once more.
"The price for my service fee is the owing to me of a singular favour to be called upon at any time I desire and to hear you say that I am, by far, the most excellent friend you have ever had."

One eye rose upward, Matteo's gaze held expectantly agianst Harley's own. The Frenchman clearly intended to hear her say those very words- at least until the sudden gasp from the Warlock upon the floor, Sly sitting abruptly upright, his hat falling over his face. How very unfortunate.

"You owe me both that favour and those words, Mon Cherie. Good luck with him, Harley. He is not who I would have picked myself but, as they say, c'est la vie."

That easy grin found the Frenchman's features once more, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to the young woman's cheek before Matteo took that moment to disappear once more. Just as Sly shifted to glance behind him, his hat pushed back atop his head. His blue gaze was notably bright and full of life once more. "Did I die? What happened?"