Lost sight of the man in the mirror
Following a heart of a sinner
That very eagerness in which Tetradore had been resented that wealth of particularly fluffy towels entirely served to catch the often stoic Alpha off guard. His own 'staff', of sorts, so often left the Were-King to that solitude he tended to seek, beyond those rare occasions in which he so demanded that very respect and authority that so came with his position. This...enthusiastic anticipation of his needs was so strikingly different then the Ark he was used to that his own astonishment surely showed upon his features. Hesitantly, Tetradore took the offered towel, drying off those curly, unruly locks before both it and his bag was tossed in the chair beside the one he quickly fell into. He was equally as unprepared for the simple fashion in which the poor fae girl so rushed forward to grab that discarded towel, her very movement garnering her the vibrancy of his emerald irises as he simply watched her in an almost blank fashion. It was only after she hurried off that Tetradore's attention returned towards his brother as Dorian inquired after that very topic that had prompted his tumble into the snow in the first place. Tetradore could hardly help that roll of his eyes as he brushed off the topic altogether in favor of that hot chocolate that rested so readily in front of him.
It was only with a cup in hand that Tetradore leaned back into the embrace of that plush chair. The very comfort of it all, combined with those few hours of sleep he had gotten, prompted a soft yawn upon Tetradore's lips. His attention, however, shifted abruptly to the fae across from him, only for a soft snort left his nose at the idea that he might be far more used to those daylight hours. If only Dorian knew. For now, however, Tetradore merely waved off those concerns with a small flick of his wrist. "It doesn't matter really." He reassured the fae, that glimpse of concern hardly had passed unnoticed and yet he continued on all the same in that continual effort to assuage Dorian's worries. "The Ark really doesn't pick up till the evening so, I'm usually up till two or three in the morning dealing with the bar and the fights and everything. Plus cat's are pretty nocturnal ourselves." He pointed out with a small grin tugging at the far corners of his features, the man, perhaps, making some effort to release that normal facade of apathy he so often regarded life within some favor of the fellow Matteo alone was so allowed to see. After all Dorian was somehow...far more delicate in some manners - as if his sibling was some...thing he had to protect from himself and his own usual demeanors. The very mention of the day's schedule caused his eyebrows to furrow, effectively silencing the wealth of those internal thoughts before the Were-King sought to inquire just what Dorian held in store for him today.
It was the very sound of that airplane beneath them gathering speed that slowly turned his emerald eyes away from that soft sigh upon his brother's lips. He had been on a plane exactly twice before, the very newness of it all still...intriguing even if it was displayed only in the manner in which he glanced out the window and into the darkness, the man simply watching as the world fell away and the city of lights was engulfed in that ready blackness. That inquiry of gardening was the only thing that drew Tetradore's gaze from the plethora of shadows that so surrounded them. His shoulders lifted in a small shrug of sorts, the Alpha certainly had never considered partaking in such a task so...mundane. "I've never tried...but we don't really have much...dirt or....plants around the Ark." Tetradore pointed out. After all, his very home was upon the seas, the docks little more than wood, cement, and sand. That wharf was, arguably, hardly the perfect place for any sort of garden. And yet, Dorian seemed so particularly delighted at the idea of digging in dirt that Tetradore hardly had the heart to inform the fae that such was certainly not his idea of relaxing. Really, after seeing Matteo's farm, it should have been no surprise that Dorian took after his own father in ways Tetradore never would.
That schedule that left the fae King's lips, however, prompted a frown upon the Alpha's features at the very idea of all that needed to be done before lunchtime. Truly, he almost wished they had chosen to view the Lamborghini factory a different day and yet, it was hardly his place to complain. "Mmm..." The soft sound of simple understanding left Tetradore's lips as he sipped upon the hot chocolate in his mug. He was hardly judgmental of that clear, albeit small, glimpse of annoyance that graced Dorian at that moment. Frankly, he hardly blamed the man in the slightest for viewing that clearly chaotic day ahead of them with anything but disdain. He watched as Dorian's hand ran through his hair before that silver gaze met his own - those very irises so keenly reminding him of Matteo's own. "I don't think anyone could blame you for wanting that." Tetradore commented, his head leaning against his hand as he eyed his sibling briefly. "If this is what a normal day is, I think you owe it to yourself to have at least one day every so often where you can just do what you want." A small shrug crossed his shoulders and yet, admittedly, Tetradore knew well he was hardly the sort of person to provide any sort of advice or criticism upon Dorian's life. His own day to day responsibilities were often shirked based upon his own mood and whims and whatever had occurred the night before. He was hardly the ideal leader of his own pack, much less a country.
He allowed that conversation to shift, hardly forcing Dorian to dwell upon any topic the man didn't wish to speak of. He surprised, however, at the very grin that so easily returned to Dorian features. Tetradore's eyebrow rose ever so slightly at the very mention of Matteo's message, his emerald eyes simply following Dorian as the fae reached for his phone, his fingers moving easily across the screen only to present him with that curious text message the elder fae had sent. Tetradore took that offered phone, easily flipping it in his palm only for his eyes to skirt across the screen towards that one particularly long message in question. A soft snort left his nose at those 'instructions' Matteo had left, as if Tetradore was little more than a child that needed to be cared for! The Alpha leaned back in his chair, his own fingers easily clicking on the bar at the bottom to bring up that keyboard. "How would you tell Matteo he's an ass? He'll panic more if it comes from you then me - if his fucking visions haven't forewarned him of it." It was, he was certain, the perfect sort of innocent revenge that might satisfy them both, particularly considering the very manner at which Dorian's own arms folded across his chest in some childlike pout. His own offense to those instructions quite clearly outweighed that momentary astonishment at Dorian's own ignorance of those gaming systems that Tetradore was entirely more inclined to spend his free time with.
"No, he hasn't said anything recently about Sebastian - except that getting you away from him is like trying to get water from a stone. I think that was his metaphor." A small shrug crossed Tetradore's shoulders as his attention turned to that far more pressing matter of games. "It's a gaming console, by the way. You....play games on it though the PlayStation is way better than the three sixty. The three sixty is like...all fucking FIFA or whatever...not that you have any idea of what I'm talking about..." His voice trailed off, altogether aware of those near six hundred years Matteo had informed him of that Dorian had spent behind closed doors. It was in that moment, truly, that Tetradore became attentive to the very drastic differences that divided the two men. Those commonalities were all but nonexistent. "So...uh..." He started, at least making some effort to redirect that conversation back to something Dorian might find more comfort in, "...what kind of stuff do you paint?"