His gentle tease on her status as a damsel so readily seemed to prompt that warm chuckle from the young woman. Aiden only further complimenting that very comment with his own derisive snort and the ready insistence that it was very much his style to appear in the last few moments of any unfolding drama and so pilfer that glory for himself.Ah, but how unfortunately true such a sentence might well be! Even if Matteo himself so refused to admit to it aloud. The near ancient Fae, more then once, having missed that unfolding fate he had forseen altogether else having shown up so very late that he himself had so accidentally altered the course of history without truly intending too. Here and now however, the Frenchman so merely afforded those comments a roll of his silvered gaze. Matteo near eternally good-natured in all things and yet that soft hint of flirtation of sorts lingered all the same, the Fae quite unable to help himself as those accented words easily fell from his lips.

"Everyone needs a little rescuing sometimes, Mon Cherie. Though the world surely needs more women so capable as you. As for my stealing off this glory, Tet- I fear I know not what you speak off."

That singular silver eye lifted upward, that very gesture nearing daring Aiden to suggest otherwise as Matteo rested laconically upon that bar surface, the man the very picture of relaxation as talk turned to Scotland and the WereSeals whom made their home in those frigid english waters and along those rocky coastlines. In all his long years off life he had met few aquatic Weres and yet he was perhaps unsurprised by those locations in which she professed to hail from- or more correctly- her lineage so descended. Arya would, one day, find herself upon those very shores in that quest for family. He had already seen that vision with decided clarity and yet, as always, he offered her little knowledge of that journey that lay ahead. Matteo merely offering that insistence that Scotland was a pleasing land, an old land- and one where power still existed in those unexpected ways. For now, in the least, Arya's future was here- in this city and more so, within this very ship and yet it would surely be more entertaining to allow her to discover such things for herself. The Frenchman perhaps inclined to admit he near deserved that ice that was all but hurled towards him in the wake of those comments. Matteo so having always taken a measure of amusement in coaxing those women to Aiden's side even if he knew, each time, that no relationship would surely come from it. It was good, on occasion, for Aiden to engage with those outside of his pack and Matteo himself. The WerePanther was long since grown, a man no longer a boy in every sense and yet that very care for him existed still. In all aspects. A part of the Fae still determined to....look after the boy he had raised even if Aiden no longer needed him in all the ways he once had.

With that promise of that very paperwork to be taken care off the Frenchman saw little need not to offer that impromptu meal of sorts. Aiden quick to demand his favoured dish and the very meal he had been making for the man since those childhood years. Arya, it seemed, equally willing to join that late dinner even if only by way of demand from her animalistic half. Matteo shifted easily away from the bar to offer his hand to the young woman once more before proceeding to gently guide her through those stacks of chairs and tables being put away as they followed behind Aiden toward the kitchen. Matteo gently releasing her hand a moment later. That impish grin returned again to his features at those very memories of his and Aiden's far less....tame evenings so flitted within his thoughts. His son's twenty first birthday by far one of their more significant evenings. That memory alone so prompting the shake off his head if only for the fashion in which his hangover had near resulted in the breakdown of an international peace treaty. Aiden, after all these years, seeming to find that memory as funny as he had the knight it had occurred. Matteo snorting incredulously at the mention of his speeches eloquence.

"I was lucky I didn't get fired. Although I wasn't the one who lost my wallet in that pool. We had to break back in just to get it!"

That equally rich sound of his own laughter easily joined Aiden's own. The memories of that very night near as glorious as the night itself. The young Were girl content to eye them both with a shock of sorts before declaring herself terribly boring in comparison. Matteo chuckling softly once more.

"Fear not, Arya. The world holds much for you still."

That warm simper so found his lips then, those words nothing but genuine as he begun that search for the very ingredients he desired for that meal. The ancient fae vaguely listening to that conversation as it continued all the same. Arya asking after just what the Ark was exactly only to be rewarded with that vaguely descriptive answer. Matteo allowing his eyes to roll once more and yet he said nothing further off it. Aiden had always been a man of few words. His hands reached for that pasta then, his features frowning in clear disdain at that dried, pre-packaged excuse for pasta he had been presented with. Those French words erupting from his lips a moment later before he so proceed to make a show of binning that falsified food as if it hardly held place in any kitchen he had chosen to cook within. Pre-made pasta was a sin upon this earth- of that he was sure. It lacked taste, flavour, finesse and indeed anything good about pasta at all. Aiden's own retort earning the Were Cat another soft snort. Matteo returning to English.

"You might as well eat wood shavings if you are going to eat that. They hold the same nutritional value."
Perhaps he would need visit on a weekly basis once more as he had done when Aiden was a child if this was how he was eating. He had one son who refused to eat altogether and another consume pre-packaged pasta. Intolerable. All of it. His own head shook lightly as he proceeded to hunt for those required ingredients, Matteo choosing to ignore Aiden's insistence they would be here awhile as he begun to roll that dough- pausing only to seek that rolling pin from the location Aiden had suggested it would be. Matteo working silently for several more moments then to knead the dough and roll it out across the table with practised care. The Frenchman glancing up only once he was happy with how that meal looked so far, a singular pinch of salt spread lightly across it, the man continuing to work as he spoke. Matteo asking after her pack. Aiden querying her love for work if she was willing to leave her pack ad family for that job. The faintest touch of red so illuminating the Frenchmans gaze giving away the use off his own affinity then as that throaty chuckle hummed within his chest.

"Ah, but you have an interesting job, Arya. One well suited to you, no?"

His hands reached for that knife then, Matteo beginning to cut and roll that pasta with neat precision, the Fae beginning to place those pieces within the pan beside him in preparation for cooking. His fingers adding that slight twist to each of those pieces in that faint touch of flare so unique to himself. It was only once that pan was all but filled that the Frenchman headed for the stove, a separate pan fished from beneath it to fill with water before putting it on to boil. Matteo fiddling with those settings until he was assured it was right before heading for the ridge once more.

"I dread to consider what excuse for cheese you have in here, Tet."

His gaze narrowed slightly at that block of cheese fished from the shelf. It was not...abysmal. Hardly ideal and yet not the worst. It was acceptable if nothing else. Perhaps he would need bring the pack some of that cheese from his own estate next time he returned. The Frenchman easily made his way back to that table then, that block of cheese and cheese grater placed in front of Aiden.

"Do not give me that look, Mon Amie. If one desires cheese one will need to work a little for it. I will bring you better cheese later in the week. Real cheese."

Matteo turned easily from the pair once more to return to that stove, his hand lightly grasping that spoon as it turned through the water, the fae beginning to add that pasta, his head turned briefly over his shoulder then to eye the pair seated at the bench.

"Do not let him convince you to grate that cheese for him, Arya. No matter how much he blinks his pretty, pretty eyes."


m a t t e o
it's tough to be a god