How entirely aware Tetradore was that he had been nothing short of utterly stupid that fateful night of Risque's birthday. He had been subjected to the full breadth of his mistress' newest 'toy', and Darcy's birthday present. How that very pain had been ingrained within his mind, even if his body no longer sported the wounds Risque's wrath had left behind. He had allowed, for a singular reckless moment, for his emotions to get the best of him. It had been a sheer coincidence that Risque's victim had looked so strikingly similar to his father. Though it shouldn't have been surprising really with her venom still had run through his veins, altering those minute details that he should have been able to overlook. He should have left well enough alone...and he had paid the price for his inability to do so. He had gotten...soft...weak, even. What Risque had done was merely a reminder of exactly why he could not afford such mistakes, of exactly why he had strived, over the years, to push every singular soul away. How could he have forgotten that lesson so easily? How he loathed that Darcy, of all beings, had noticed his mistake. The vampire would throw him back into the proverbial fire with Risque the very moment he could and Matteo was a secret he was determined to keep - regardless of what it cost him.
The striking emerald of his gaze remained fiercely focused upon the television, even if the advertisement of toothpaste hardly interested him in the slightest. His excuse, however, seemed...at least to satisfy the cowboy, those threats instead exchanged for a snort of disbelief and those insults that Tetradore had become far too used to. His tongue brushed across his bottom lip in consideration before, softly, Tetradore insisted that Risque had looked at that fae peculiarly too. How well he knew of Darcy's possessiveness over their shared mistress, the Were had equally suffered what 'lesser' punishments Darcy could get away with for earning Risque's unwanted attention over the years. How quickly those words hit their mark - the vampire so suddenly fell silent in paranoid contemplation. He was hardly the only one, it seemed, to have noticed the effect the fae had upon Risque. Those French words she'd cooed so sweetly to him as if she had known him, as if she had been looking forward to enjoying him. Her retribution had been far too great for taking the soul of a single fae, not one she shouldn't have cared about in the least.
There was little denying that manipulation had never been Tetradore's strong suit. He frequently lost when he made any such efforts to exploit the pair of vampires that strove to shackle and chain him. Nevertheless, there were precious few moments in which he succeeded in such efforts, and oh how he relished them. Comradely, he nodded along with Darcy's thoughts, his arms folded almost lackadaisical over his chest as he leaned back against the bench. It was key, he knew, to not seem too invested in that conversation, that alone had so often given him away in the past. His gaze deviated back to the television as if it was far more interesting than Darcy's concern of Risque's ongoing's. His admittance of Risque's conversing with other men was almost offhanded, though hardly a lie by any means. She did speak to other men, even if they often ended up dead afterward. That, however, was a point Tetradore hardly felt worth mentioning. He listened in silence to the territorial growl that reverberated in the back of Darcy's throat - the vampire clearly no longer contemplating his own involvement with the fae as his thoughts turned with vehement jealousy towards his chosen mate. That barked inquiry of just who Risque spoke to, however, prompted an almost exasperated sigh to Tetradore's lips. "I don't fucking know, Darcy, I don't pay attention to them. There was some vampire in the warehouse district we met a few months ago, there was a warlock in the east...I don't know - there's too damn many men in her life to remember them all." He countered his voice almost holding a hint of annoyance that Darcy even asked in the first place. God, how he would have liked to send Darcy on some dumb, goose chase for men, of all things.
The rhythmic tapping of Darcy's fingers against the bench slowly drew the vibrancy of Tetradore's gaze. The issue of that fae still clearly churning within the cowboy's mind. Slowly, the Alpha's eyes turned upwards as Darcy informed him exactly of how rare fae as a species were, largely thanks to the murderous instincts of vampires. Tetradore hardly bothered to point that out, however, the same as he refused to even consider life in any aspect from a monetary point of view. It was only Darcy's declaration that Tetradore owed him cash that finally prompted his lips to part. "I aint paying you shit." He spat back, regardless of what 'way' Darcy thought of to make up for that sum. The last thing he anticipated, however, as he glared back at the vampire beside him, was the sudden inquiry of his....sexual relationship with Risque. How he hated those nights - those ones somehow worse then the torture, then the killing and the murder, then even being degredated to the mere role of a pet. "No." There was a hint of sharpness to his tone, one that held a touch of finality to it. How Tetradore despised that topic, the man incapable of lashing out even despite how well he'd only moments ago been doing to not antagonize the southerner more then necessary. "You know Darcy, maybe she's hanging out with other men because you're not satisfying her, have you ever thought of that?"
My heart is just to dark too care. I can't destroy what isn't there
so if you love me let me go
Deliver me into my fate & leave me with my sins
If you still care, don't ever let me know