Geneva knew how to pick and choose her secrets. Jefferson had never imagined the girl to reveal information such as Jordan or her child to him when such things seemed so dear to her heart and still tender (as evidenced by her furiosity when he'd stupidly brushed their names aside). Yet it seemed no one knew exactly what was driving her anymore. Her reasons were simple ones, finding a new life to live or a way to turn around from the memories that haunted her, but as her stay in Phoenix Valley spanned on and on, the cyclops had his suspicions that such things had not been the case in a long while. Someone in Crimson Dreams had driven her away from the lands; whoever they were, they must have been worse in personality than Jefferson himself, since the Patriarch had tried to no end to push her away only to find her coming right back. For a brief moment, he was almost threatened by the notion that there was someone out there who really could scare Geneva away. She must have left Crimson Dreams for some reason.
"Was she close to anyone here?" Why was he asking? He didn't care. Geneva was mad at him. He'd succeeded in pushing her away from his walls and pissing her off, but the guilt became mixed together with curiosity. Of course, Jefferson didn't care deep down. Of course not! Why would he ever care about some olive-eyed dreamer? He was just pretending to care. If Savina believed he did, perhaps she would feel more comfortable with the idea of the mangy cyclops leading a pack. Strange, though, how natural such pretending came to him. "Your pack seems quiet." Calm, to be more specific. Perhaps he was just used to the ramblings of DaVinci or the recent uproar between his pack and Inferni that always kept him on edge. Crimson Dreams, however... felt solemn.