Matteo

It's tough to be a god

It had, perhaps, not turned out quite exactly as Matteo had foreseen it and yet, fate had a way of unfolding with a rapidness even he could not always predict. Still, he had been certain of Harley's survival. He would hardly have allowed the young woman to meet her demise at the hands of Ruben- of all people (really to call Ruben 'people' was something of a generous endorsement). Even so, Matteo could hardly admit that he had almost enjoyed the young woman's performance. Her blond companion had proven more formidable than Matteo had previously thought. The near ancient Fae, on several occasions, had readied himself to assist the pair and yet they had proven...resourceful. Hmmm. Risque had underestimated Harley- and just how much fight truly did exist within her slender, femanne figure. A warm simper so easily found the Frenchman's features at the thought, his silver gaze inclined to watch the raven haired woman with a certain affection as she lent heavily agianst the doors she had managed to close.

Sylvester, despite his currently impending medical disaster- was still on his feet as he clutched the wall in turn. The warlock had more spine then half the Hunters currently serving in Alexander's cavalry forces within the city. It was a single rush of power that easily encased the Frenchman then. Matteo teleported silently back into Syn. The ancient Fae landed within the depths of that stone tower once more, his shoes crunching softly upon the sandy floor of the prison that had, very nearly, cost Harley and Sly their lives. Ruben, returned to his vampiric form, was positively howling as he struggled to put out the flames that singed and burned at his clothing. His outrage over having been forced back, empty handed, into the darkness was distinctly clear. It was merely unfortunate he hadn't died. The loathsome man, for now at least, forced to sit inside that tower until night fell before explaining to Risque what the 'ungodly noise' had been this afternoon. Ruben, unwilling to admit he had lost not one but two victims, was likely to make up some meddling excuse and bear the brunt of Risque's wrath for disturbing her sleep himself.

Ruben, as if suddenly sensing he was not alone, seemed to whirl in place. Matteo effortlessly teleporting clear of that pit, leaving the vampire to continue putting out his clothes- only to reappear within Syn itself. The Frenchman reached upward to tap his fingers agianst the air conditioner that had been the cause of most of this drama. It took but a single moment for that machine to hum back into life. Its mechanics flawlessly repaired. Matteo's silver gaze easily swept that dance floor then, the man seemingly observing that decor. Risque always had possessed a certain....style. A blend of French gothic and what Matteo was certain might have been 'tortured soul'. His head shook ever so slightly, a final burst of teleportation promoting the Fae to disappear- only to reappear upon the roof. Directly above Harley and a now collapsed Sly. The warlock was entirely unconscious. Matteo's legs folded neatly beneath himself, the Frenchman content to sit cross legged upon the edge of the roof as he eyed the pair beneath him. A grin of clear amusement so finding his lips then.

"Ah, Mon Amie, this is why Fate does not give you nice things. Look what you do to them."

Matteo's hands gestured loosely to the collapsed warlock. His raspy, shallow breathing sounded almost pitiful. The blood that was beginning to run from the blond's nose sure to attract vampires the moment the sun went down. Matteo's gaze shifted from Harley, to Sly and back again. The young woman's face was a picture of concern. A genuine concern too. How readily Matteo's features were almost inclined to....soften, if only for a moment. The Frenchman was distinctly careful to remove that look from his features before Harley inclined her gaze up towards his own. Fate....was curious, sometimes. All these years he had spent it's emissary- if that indeed, was what he was. Matteo, at times, so hardly sure. Yet- so often he still found himself almost surprised by Fate's decisions. He had seen Sylvester coming and yet the blond warlock was still unanticipated, to some degree. He would not, perhaps, have picked such a man as this for Harley and yet....Sly had proven him wrong too. In an entirely different way. Oh, if only Harley had but any idea what fate had in store for her this time. Matteo, for now, chose to keep those very visions to himself as his head nodded towards Sly once more.

"He has three broken ribs, they are, how you say, puncturing into his lungs. His lungs are filling with blood- that is why he cannot breathe."

He had seen such injuries before. Countless times over. They had a little time, at least, before he succumbed to his inevitable fate. Matteo seemingly content to at least assure Harley of what it was that seemed to afflict her companion. The Frenchman resting his head within his hand as he eyed the striking young woman below. The man seemingly unconcerned with the blond's fate.

"So, how have you been, Mon Cherie?"