Matteo

It's tough to be a god

It seemed to bring about no small measure of disbelief within the slender, pretty hispanic woman to consider the notion that Tetradore, had once, been nothing short of apt when it came to slamming doors with an unmatched and unbridled passion the likes of which Matteo was certain might never be seen again. Tetradore, after all, had grown into the sort of man who presented the world with a carefully crafted exterior of indifference- if not outright disdain. Any sort of emotion from the Were King was veritably rare and yet, how readily Matteo knew of what existed beneath that facade. Whether or not Mira had managed to peer beneath that metaphorically murky surface remained to be seen and yet- fate, with its myriad of twisted pathways seemed almost intent upon that relationship. Tetradore and Mira's paths inexplicably entwined for the foreseeable future and as such, the near ancient Fae was decidedly...intrigued by the woman before him. After all, to expect Tetradore to tell him anything about his relationship was a hope Matteo had long since cast aside. How surely he knew his son better than that. Indeed, that which he hoped to glean from Mira would be best learned from the woman herself. The Frenchman not wholly opposed to offering her that mere glimpse into her boyfriends childhood she desired to see in turn as a soft simper found his lips once more. Matteo, for several moments, merely allowed his head to tilt in a gesture of consideration. His mind was content to ponder over those years he had known his son. Those tales of Tetradore's childhood were....permanently etched upon the surface of his mind. Finding one suitable to share with Mira however, was perhaps another matter and yet, that warm simper so hardly faded from his features. His silver eyes met her own in turn.

"Oui, when he was younger my accent fascinated him. He used to mimic it all the time while making sure I knew I was pronouncing his name wrong. As if I cannot say Aidun. He would say no it is Aidun not Aidun. I would say I am saying Aidun. He would say Aidun. Aidun, Aidun, Aidun. See? I can say it, no?"

Matteo's gaze lingered upon the hispanic woman then with the clear expectation that she would agree his pronunciation of his son's name was as flawless as he believed it to be. The Frenchman seemed oblivious to the notion that, to the ears of any other, he had so merely repeated that name incorrectly over and over. Ah, but how readily that glimmer of amusement seemed to linger within his gaze, some part of the Frenchman seemingly entirely aware of that very game he played as he so merely awaited the woman's response. Another faint chuckle humming within his throat before he so softly insisted that it was her he had come to see tonight. Not his younger son. The surprise that lingered upon the young woman's face was so readily obscured by the excited giggling of the waitstaff from the kitchen, the very sound of those excitable women seeming to prompt a near impish simper to the Frenchmans face once more as his head merely shook. His allure, he insisted, was an unstoppable force. Mira's own laughter so easily parted her lips then, the woman's own teasing words betraying her thoughts upon the manner and yet how readily Matteo was inclined to admit he enjoyed her good humor. Ah, the world had far too many people who were far too serious in it of late. Mira, it seemed, was one inclined to good nature- and to providing good alcohol. A most...pleasing trait within a woman.

That ordered gin was quick to arrive, Mira sliding it expertly atop the bar as Matteo reached to capture it before lifting it to his lips in a single, fluid motion. The drink downed with expert ease before it was placed back atop the polished surface of the bar only to be slid back to the woman in clear expectation of another. Mira, once more, was quick to fill that drink, sliding it back a second time as the ancient Fae caught it with ease once more. Matteo, this time, seemed more inclined to nurse that drink as he brought it to his lips. That singular sip was no less pleasing than the first had been as he savored the taste upon his tongue. Ah, but how readily he knew the pleasures of alcohol far too well. A veritable...hobby that it would perhaps be best not to delve into tonight. Not when those questions of sorts tugged at his own mind with a rarely seen curiosity. Mira's sudden query of his preference for boats, however, was quick to prompt the Frenchmans insistence that his family was seemingly...reluctant to allow him to drive any sort of watercraft. Matteo inclined to frown at the thought as if he so hardly understood why.

Mira's laughter, this time, seemed to echo softly within that space as she insisted that she was, perhaps, not too terribly surprised after he had 'parked' Tetradore's car within Dorian's garden the night the original Ark had met its demise. The very fight that had ensued had been...volatile if nothing else and yet for several hours, at least, the Ark had ceased to exist and Tetradore had been inclined to think only of his car. A far...lesser weight to carry. A distraction from the flames that had, once more, taken nearly everything from his son. Mira's voice so managed to penetrate that very thought, Matteo's silver gaze glancing toward her once more as she coyly suggested that it was almost as if he had caused that very wreckage....on purpose. Hmmm. How rare it was to find a being so very perceptive. A near knowing smile tugged gently at Matteo's own features. That momentary look shared between the two alone before his shoulders rose into a loose shrug.

"Ah, I think perhaps you give me too much credit, Mon Cherie. I am merely, as my family say, a most bad driver."

How readily that knowing grin so hardly faltered from his lips, Matteo lifting his drink to them once more to take another sip before suggesting that surely Mira might enjoy his company tonight. After all, it was not so often they were given to speak and she had been with Tetradore longer than any other. That singular admittance seemed to capture the woman's attention as she queried whether or not she truly was Tetradore's longest relationship, Matteo's head bobbing softly.

"Oui, you are."

There was no harm in offering the woman that veritable truth. Mira too, the only woman tetradore had ever brought to meet their family even if that initial meeting had, perhaps, been veritably forced due to the sinking of the Ark. Still, such a step, small as it was, was undeniably...significant when it came to Tetradore. Matteo, for now, so hardly voicing that very thing. The Frenchman instead was content to guide that conversation toward another topic. The very visit Tetradore and Mira had paid to her family. One he had seen within his mind's eye several times over and yet how curious he was of just how Mira might speak of it. The young woman seemed to consider that very question then as she lent agianst the bar, her features frowning slightly as she seemed to carefully choose her words. That meeting, she insisted, had been...eventful. Matteo's own features frowned slightly before the young woman hurried onward. It had been good to see her family again, it seemed. To put her own mind at ease. They had been pleased to meet Teteradore too, even if her younger sister had developed her own moniker for him- the very notion coaxing a soft chuckle to Matteo's lips as the Frenchman rested his head within his own hand. That gesture decidedly boyish and one that made the near ancient fae appear far younger then he truly was as his tousled, brunette hair threatened to catch within his lashes. His silver gaze met Mira's own once more as those accented words parted his lips.

"You must forgive, Tet, Mon Cherie. He is not used to meeting families. You would know well, I think, that he is not the most...social of beings."

That amusement tugged at the Frenchmans features once more before he continued, his head shaking softly.

"He does not enjoy crowds or smalltalk or most engagements of any kind but it does not mean he does not care."

There was a distinct softness to the Frenchmans words, Matteo, in that moment, so choosing those words carefully in turn. After all, such things were personal,private, for tetradore alone to offer Mira if he chose and yet some manner of explanation was perhaps surely due if only to prevent the woman before him, the woman his son so clearly cared about, from misunderstanding the Panther's intention. From developing a frustration with him or letting herself become upset by his manner as others had before.

"He cares a great deal, but he is not very good at showing it."

To care, after all, was to be...vulnerable and oh, how readily Aiden had learned to hide any sense of vulnerability long ago. The Were King having developed an armor so thick that most hardly dared, any more, to attempt to breach it.

"All things with Aidun...take time. I hope, Mon Cherie, that you are prepared to be patient?"

One eye rose ever so slightly, Matteo content to regard the woman before him then. His words, as before, were distinctly soft and yet how readily that softness seemed to conceal the seriousness of those words themselves. How loath Matteo was to allow his son to be hurt again, by anything, by anyone, those pieces he had so long held together were becoming harder and harder to repair with every fractured chip. The Frenchman in that moment, so doing as any father surely would, as Mira's own would no doubt do in time to tetradore himself. The Fae so simply watching over his son. Yet too- how certain he was Tetradore had chosen well in Mira. The woman's future was bright in all regards. A small simper finding the frenchmans features again.

"I am pleased Tet met you, Mademoiselle Mira. He and Dorian both they, how you say, mean...everything to me. I want them to be happy- and that is hard for Tet."

Matteo's features frowned slightly once more at some inner, hidden thought. His gaze returned abruptly to Mira once more.

"-but there are still things I must ask, oui."

How readily tha impish simper seemed to find the Frenchmans features then. That veritable serious facade seemed to shift once more into something far more teasing again. Matteo waited until he was assured Mira's attention remained upon him alone.

"Aidun is not still eating pasta out of the packet is he? What do you cook for him when you make dinner? I need to know how disappointed I need to be in your cooking."

How readily that teasing grin found the Frenchmans features then. The man very near daring the young woman to defend her cooking. Ah, but surely it would be better than packet pasta, no?