That conversation about Tobias seemed to prompt some measure of concentration from the otherwise rather....high vampire. Tobias, like Tetradore before him, had proven to be a distinctly difficult individual and yet- where Tetradore at least possessed enough sanity to maintain a modicum of usefulness, Tobias was another manner entirely. One his Mistress rarely spoke off. The leopard had been...unlike any other feline that had come before, or after him. Even Risque, with her masterful control over all things feline, had been unable to control him in exactly the same way she did her other pets. Tobias followed those commands he was given and yet it was almost as if only parts of those orders even managed to take up place within his wretched mind. To command Tobias to sit was to find him seated in the most inconvenient place possible, upside down, often making some unholy sound. To command him to stay was to prompt the Leopard to stare, unblinking, for hours on end until even Darcy became unnerved and yet it had hardly taken long for Ruben to discover the boy's ability to eat through anything and everything. No chain could hold him. No cage could keep him. No muzzle could truly silence him and worse still......his insanity was.....infectious. It bled into everything. The boy's tortured mind made it near impossible for Risque to fully command him and oh how little it took for Tobias to send Syn itself into chaos. Tobias was an infection. A cancer. The very kind that they could not afford to keep and yet, despite it all, Tetradore seemed to hold some sort of warped affection for his companion. Enough to prompt Risque to keep Tobias alive for the leverage he provided. Leverage the vampiric Queen preferred to keep as far away from Syn as possible- before Tobias had a chance to truly understand what his maddening abilities were capable of. How readily Darcy suspected the Leopard was far, far more powerful then he appeared. He was merely held back by his own madness. The cowboy was glad to be rid of that vile creature.

Harley's sudden query on how Tobias had managed to survive after committing that ultimate sin- biting Risque, seemed to prompt a slight frown to Darcy's features once more, as if he contemplated that very thing. The WereCat continued then, asking why Tobias was special, any other cat would be dead. Darcy snorted softly, the vampire making no effort to argue those very claims as he continued to stumble determinedly....somewhere. That destination within his mind was distinctly clear. Those thoughts of Tobias became more and more difficult to grasp as he ignored the angry sounds of traffic and pedestrians forced to all but dive around him as he continued onward. The southern cowboy seemingly convinced no car would dare strike at him as he moved with the unfortunate Harley forced to nearly job to keep up.

"He ain't special- 'e's jus....valuable."

That, it seemed, was all Darcy was content to say on the matter as the pair continued down the sidewalk and over a final road (mercifully without incident) before arriving at the end of streets and reaching the beach. The white sand stretched out before them, the moonlight above affording it a near ethereal glow, the ocean waves looking almost inky in the night's blackness and yet this, it seemed, was the very destination Darcy had desired. The cowboy, for once, appeared almost...content. At least until his mismatched gaze was cast downward to the sand that rested at the concrete edge. Sand was a problem. Sand was in his way. It would get into his boots and Risque would be ill pleased if he strode sand through their home. Darcy moved abruptly to reach downward. The cowboy began to unlace his boots, pulling first one off and then the other before his socks followed. Those boots and socks staked in a neat pile beside him before his gaze shifted sharply and yet incredulously towards Harley with that command to take off her own shoes. That very request was near boyish in its sudden insistence. His gaze hardly wavered from Harley's figure as she moved to do as asked and unzipped her own combat boots. It was only once Darcy was satisfied with her boot removal progress that the vampire stepped down and onto that sand himself. Those grains were cool beneath his feet. Darcy moved his toes near reflectively, feeling the sand between them with satisfaction before Harley stepped down to stand beside him. His gaze shifted to eye the Were's feet before abruptly insisting they were....small. Well. It was almost a compliment.

Darcy's thoughts, however, seemed to shift once more as the vampire strode suddenly forward to wander towards the waters edge, his toes dipping into the cool ocean as it lapped at his bare, pale feet. The smell of salt was almost potent. Exactly as it had been the very first time he had ever seen it. The ocean so eternally holding a sort of.....pleasantness for him. If only for those memories connected to it. Memories the vampire seemed oddly....willing to share as he spoke of the very first night he had seen that beach. Risque had brought him here. After he had told her he had never seen the ocean before. She had stayed in the car. Sand, she had insisted, was a vile thing and yet Darcy had been near captivated by it. Even if he had believed, that first time, that he was at risk of sinking within its depths. Before that night he had only ever read about the ocean, or seen pictures within those books at school. Pictures his Father had been loath to allow him to look at. Book learning and daydreaming got a man nothing and nowhere. Those very words were near bitter as he offered them. Darcy displaying a mere shadow of the true depth of his disdain for his Father.

The pair were near quiet for a moment. Little save the breeze passed between them before Harley suddenly insisted his Father sounded like....a bastard. A sudden, genuine amusement seemed to find the vampire's features then as his lip quirked upward. Harley was offered a genuine rare grin that was almost pleasant- despite the rows of teeth it displayed. Darcy's head shook softly, his own dark hair, made scruffy by the wind, falling into his eyes as he brushed it aside.

"Me parents didn't even want no kids. Day for sure didn't want tree of us. Back den dough day jus ain't got none o'dat birth control an dare ain't no woman got da gall ta say no to 'er man if he's wantin' a roll in da hay. Getting knocked up is jus bad luck. Yar jus deal wit da kids dat come from it. Dats it."

Darcy's shoulders lifted in a simple shrug. This, it seemed, the extent of his understanding of 'family values'. Birth control was non-existent within the religious deep south back then and yet no woman would dare deny her husband. Pregnancy was simply a stroke of bad luck, something that happened. A baby was something to deal with. Half of them died before adulthood anyway. Large families were common. Having children because a family desired them was a foreign thought to his mind. Yet, even those disparaging thoughts hardly seemed to linger long in the southern vampire's mind as he abruptly turned once more, Darcy began to wander down that beach, his feet leaving prints in the wet sand as he did. A hum abruptly rising within his throat. Those better memories, it seemed, had returned. Darcy content to hum that favoured tune before his lips parted to softly sing several of those lyrics to Killer Queen. The vampire....surprisingly on key. His voice held a distinctly pleasant sound. A rare talent so few ever knew he possessed. Harley, it seemed, had been all but forgotten as he continued with that song. At least until she asked why they were at the beach at all. Darcy's song so abruptly halted, the vampire turning to eye his companion once more. Why were they here?

"I like da beach."

Wasn't it obvious? Why else would they come here? Darcy's features remained focused upon Harley's own as if he struggled to comprehend why she would question this at all. As if his simple like of the beach was the most obvious thing in the world and yet..... Darcy's gaze glanced abruptly upward to eye that moon as if seeming to remember its existence suddenly. It was getting....late. Risque would disapprove if he was late back to Syn.

"Arley?"

He waited, his gaze turned back towards her, his figure readily illuminated by the moon as he waited for her attention to return to him.

"Yar can 'ave da rest of day night off if yar want. Dun worry 'bout Risque. I'll tell 'er I gave it to ya. Im gunna go down da end of da beach den back ta Syn 'efore me Darlin' gets mad at me far bein' late. Yar go on 'ome."

We are rough men and used to rough ways.