Falgar's father? Admittedly, Jefferson knew little to nothing about Falgar; the two had simply not crossed paths in the short time the boy had resided in the Valley beneath the man's one-eyed gaze. He had been somewhat out of touch, both before and after the accident that cost him half the pack's touring sites and the scarred man's arm, and he knew regret well as a result. Perhaps now, more than ever, since he had nothing to fall back as far as knowledge of Falgar went.
The boy's father backed off, however, though he had never struck Jefferson as intimidating nor a threat in the first place. Virgil assumed a weakened, submissive position typical of strangers at the Patriarch's borders, but the great male did not yet stand down. Falgar was clearly distressed, and that was enough for the brute's overprotectiveness to remain strong.
At Virgil's last words, Jefferson perked his tattered ears. "Falgar," he said, unmoving, his eyes fixed on the stranger, "have you any input on this?"
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