"We can do the one twenty, the three fifty, the six thirty or the nine twenty at night. How does the the nine twenty suit you? I'm supposed to be in Paris for most of the day, what with the riots, I won't be able to get out until at least after five and the protestors go home for dinner."
Matteo's featured frowned ever so slightly at the mere thought of those ongoing riots that had beset his beloved city. National peacekeeping affairs were hardly within his job description. The ancient Fae far more adapt as those more international relations and yet few other beings within the government held anything even remotely close to his own level of skill for diplomacy in the face of anarchy. Yet, how very little motivation he could seem to summon for the entire affair if only because he was inclined to agree with those protesting. The price of fuel within his home country was bordering upon ludacris- even if he himself had barely used a gallon of it in some decades. Those very thoughts of work, for now, were cast easily aside. The Frenchman glanced upward from his phone screen then to meet Alexander's gaze as the pair wandered those back streets, pressing deeper and deeper into the East side of town, their footfall echoing along those cold, empty streets that seemed almost dreary after the sun had set. The air around them smelling near heavy with the promise of rain later in the evening. Matteo already having assured Alexander of the exact time those first drops would fall from the sky if only so the Hunter hardly need bother with a heavier coat.
"So Windows at Nine twenty, VIP seats, snacks included and pre-ordered, center of the theatre, center of the screen where you like yes? Hand me your credit card. What? I don't have one for this country, Mon Amie. I doubt they will accept my French money here."
That grumble of irritation from his companion was easily ignored, the Frenchman chuckling softly all the same. Matteo plucked that card from his companions fingers, the rest of those details added in before those movie tickets were booked and Alexander's card returned to him. It had been far, far to long since they had seen a movie. Those tickets perhaps, some effort on his part to make up for dragging Alexander out in the middle of the night. Matteo tucked his phone back into the pocket of his jeans before turning his full attention to the dark streets that lingered before them. The distant sound of music holding the promise of their goal tonight as the pair wordlessly crossed the street and shifted with that same effortlessness to walk side by side once more, their footsteps in a near perfect unison and yet- had they not spent more than a thousand years at one another sides? Such unity came as effortlessly as breathing. It had not proven terribly difficult to coax Alexander from the warmth of his cafe tonight for that 'vampire wrangling' Matteo so sought to undertake. Whether his closet companion had merely grown bored and desired the excitement or indeed held some fanciful notion that Matteo himself needed protecting remained to be seen. The Hunter's protests over the idea having been less then the Fae had anticipated. Even despite Alexander continuing to insist he was too old for such nonsense. Perhaps it was for old times sake Alexander had chosen to come along at all. After all, how long had it been since they had hunted a vampire together? A good century at least. A time having existed, once, when they had hunted several a week. The pair of men having made a name for themselves in that very business. The money had been good once. Not that either of them had ever needed the money so much as those towns and villages had needed to be free of the covens pillaging them every other night. How the world had changed. Those accented words were offered softly to his companion again.
"I think our usual routine will work. I'll head into the alleyway, you hang back. A few drops of my blood should be all it takes to summon a vampire to us, I'll keep it distracted, you come from behind and restrain him for me. Try not to kill it, Alexanderous. I require to see how this hybrid venom works when injected and if you murder the poor fool we are going to have to hunt another."
Alexander had never truly favoured those plans that saw Matteo use himself as bait and yet he could hardly deny the effectiveness. After all, what allured a vampire more than Fae blood? Fae having become only more and more rare over the centuries as a near direct result of the very adoration and obsession the undead seemed to find with their blood. The species near hunted to the brink of extinction. Matteo's own blood several thousand years old and far more potent then any regular Fae. Hmm, perhaps it would be better to linger just a little further from that bar least they attractive every vampire within a five mile radius. They needed only one.
"This is the place. Just up here. What do you think?"
Matteo paused at the edge of the street, the Red On The Water bar aglow at the end of that road, the music and noise spilling out into the darkness attesting to its popularity. A vampire owned and operated bar was likely to attract that vampiric kind in turn. Matteo content enough to wait for Alexander's own assessment of the place and that singular nod of agreement before the the Frenchman gestured to that alleyway behind the bar.
"I will head around the back and create a....alluring distraction. Wait a few minutes then come and rescue me like the great hero you are. I look forward to seeing what we catch tonight."
That roll of Alexander's eyes only further brightened that grin upon Matteo's own as the Frenchman's own arms lifted upward, Matteo walking backwards and away from Alexander then with that ready tease in his voice.
"You could smile a little, Mon Amie! We are reliving our glory days, eh?"
Matteo pivoted easily upon his heel, taking those last few strides smoothly before slipping into the alleyway behind the bar. The Frenchman already rolling up his sleeve with well-practised ease. This, after all, was a game Alexander and himself had played countless times. Each knowing their role decidedly well. A small pocket knife was easily summoned into the ancient fae's hand a mere moment later. That blade slashed quickly across his left hand. The Frenchman flinching slightly with that sting. The wound was hardly deep and yet blood ran quickly to the surface, maring his skin with that red taint, several of those droplets falling onto the concrete below to stain it. The knife was quickly evaporated once more. Matteo lent back against the wall nearby the back door of that bar then, shaking his hand suddenly, as if he had, somehow, accidentally sliced his own hand on those broken glass bottles, or crates of sharp stone edges that lined the alleyway. A muttered curse falling from his lips as he did- if only to make that very act seem all the more believable. A Fae in distress. That very action of flicking his hand so spreading that scent all the more. His silver eyes remained upon his wound, as if distracted by such an unexpected injury and so oblivious to his surroundings. The Frenchman far more aware of what existed around him then he so appeared and yet, vampires so often preferred that oblivious, easy looking, vulnerable prey. The scent of his blood, so delectable, so rare, surely enough to distract any vampire from the scent of Alexander that lingered so delicately in the breeze in turn. The metaphorical hunter so about to become the hunted and the prey of two very ancient beings.
"Ah, damn, my hand. This will not do at all....."
m a t t e o
it's tough to be a god