Tetradore was hardly oblivious to that flirtatious tone within Matteo's accented voice, even despite the French Ambassador's assurance that he hadn't the slightest idea of what Tetradore was speaking of. The were-King rolled his eyes and yet, he saw little reason to intervene with the fae's antics. After all, he knew Matteo well, well enough to know that if the Frenchman wanted Arya in his bed by the end of the night, she certainly would be there. His emerald eyes shifted towards Arya as the girl commented of her tricks, winking playfully. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly before the were-King mused softly. "That you do." Her affinity for emotional control was hardly new to him, he had known another with that power and yet, he could hardly deny she had utilized it with more adeptness then he had ever seen. His own thoughts turned entirely contemplative as Matteo and the were-seal spoke of her heritage. That country seemed fascinating to both of his companions, even though Tetradore himself took little part in the conversation, instead inclined to merely listen with some vague hint of inquisitiveness. After all, trips abroad, up until now, had been an option entirely closed off to the Alpha, prompting a sort of disinterest in the world beyond that metropolis.

It was, however, that very mention of food that so seemed to garner Tetradore's attention all over again. Cooking was a sort of hidden skill of his adoptive father's, one that he tended to relish in with every chance he received. It hardly took long in the slightest for that demand of his favored dish. As a boy there had been months where all he asked for were cheese and noodles - if only for the fact that it was something different from the carnivorous diet he had otherwise been fed. Tetradore was all to content to lead the pair towards the rather large kitchen of that shipping vessel, all the while reminiscing on those far more exciting weekends the pair had once had. The older he'd gotten, the wilder those adventures had become, if only for the were-King's once continual desire for escape from the rest of his life. It had prompte a sort of recklessness within him, one that apparently fostered breaking and entry and copious amounts of alcohol. He could hardly help that warm chuckle on his lips at the mention of breaking back into that building to fetch his forgotten wallet, his head shook ever so slightly. "Look, at least we found it before the cleaning crew came in." The were-King offered as that same defense he'd certainly used many a times before whenever that night was brought up.

Arya's insistence that her life was boring in comparison, however, seemed to prompt an almost ominous promise from Matteo that there was still a great amount of adventure to be had within her life. He glanced towards Arya, providing her one of those small shakes of his head as if to silently remind her how truly incorrigible Matteo could be, when the desire struck. That simple gesture was mirrored from the girl but moments later with that look of skepticism she provided the fae in return. Tetradore flopped within a barstool before the island in the kitchen, gesturing lightly towards the chair at his side for Arya. He watched as Matteo began to rifle through the cabinets for the ingredients needed for that delectable dish. That sudden barrage of French, however, hardly seemed to perturb him as he so quickly defended the presence of that boxed macaroni. Matteo's assurance that it's nutritional value was more akin to wood shavings brought a huff to his lips. "I didn't know you cared about my nutritional intake." The were-King muttered, his arms folding over his chest. It was only once Matteo had found those ingredients to make his own pasta that Tetradore saw fit to inform Arya that they would, undoubtedly, be here for quite some time.

It was, however, this very reason that saw Tetradore inquire after Arya's own life. He was curious, truly, to how she handled her love for her job pulling her away from her family. He hadn't considered that they might not have approved of her preferred line of work. His head tilted inquisitively to the side as she spoke, his attention deviating only by the sound of Matteo's own voice. That very wording informed him that the very answer to that inquiry was one the Frenchman already knew, even if he let Arya admit it herself. It was curious that she chose to care for her own species and yet, he couldn't deny that it was extremely fitting. "I'm sure that they appreciate having someone who understands them." He responded after a moment's consideration. His tone was far more sincere than amused, her very passion for her own kind was one the Alpha took with decided seriousness. Truthfully, he found the whole affair rather...sweet, if he was being honest. Any further thoughts he might have had upon that conversation, however, were interrupted only by Matteo's declaration about cheese.

"Cheese is cheese." The were-King responded with a sigh, watching as Matteo fished about the large walk in refrigerator. He harly anticipated the Frenchman's return, however, or that cheese and grater that were placed in front of him. For a moment, he simply stared at those foreign objects blankly. He stared up at Matteo as the Frenchman declared he would have to work for that meal, only to declare he would bring cheese later. "What's wrong with this cheese?!" Tetradore inquire with a hint of incredulousness, even as he reached up to pick up that block of cheese. For a moment, he fought with that wrapper, undoing the plastic so he could peel back the material. He glanced upwards as Matteo calle out over his shoulder, only for those emerald eyes briefly sliding towards Arya herself, as if he was considering such a thing. He watched as she purposefully turned her gaze from him, prompting another sigh from Tetradore's lips. He had only just reached out from that grater before that unexpected feeling overcame him, that peculiar sort of determination to not only show Matteo that he was more than capable of grating cheese but also that he was the best grater ever. It was such an atypical sensation for the man that he quite near froze in mid motion, at least, until the realization of what was occuring hit him like a veritable tidal wave.

Tetradore was so used to having that control taken away from him - enough so that he should have been able to notice earlier than he had that those emotions that afflicted him were fabricated. He had struggled for years to find that perfect level of tranquility, to present that world with utter indifference that to have anything but was...abnormal. The simply realization of that manipulation brought a whole flood of feelings - anger, dejection, and fear all near raged through the man in that singular moment as he so fought for that control of himself all over again. He was, truthfully, hardly upset at Arya herself. Rather, those emotions were habitual, a manifestation of the fact that his own inability to control himself was still inescapable. After all those years, after all those things that had been forced upon him. A small shudder ran through his frame as those memories tugged sharply at him. The corner of his lips tilted downwards ever so slightly as Tetradore focused solely upon that cheese, using that singular action of grating to ground him as he struggle to push away those memories and once again regain some level of apathy he so often wore. That very silence from the were-King, in that moment, seemed to echo in volumes.