For once, Jefferson was not met with a testy stranger; the cyclops had decided early to try greeting foreign faces with something less than intimidating. He had tried neutrality with this one: the approach was emotionless and simple, a few easy questions thrown out that could be quickly answered so Jefferson could direct the male on his way. He was responded to as assumed, being that the black-furred male remained calm and casual, unintimidated by the Patriarch's portrait of scars and brutality worn on his face.
The stranger's intention was clear; he'd come to meet Phoenix Valley's leader, and he was quick to the point. Jefferson could appreciate that; the brute nodded his head gently as he listened and spoke when his turn came. A tattered ear twitched at the sound of Deuce's name, but her son didn't necessarily fall in his mother's tracks, or at least the monster hoped not. "Well, you found him," he shrugged indifferently. "And I'm, well, ...'acquainted' with your mother. I was her replacement when she left." Left, as in ditched us, to be exact. "She never spoke to me about her kids, so I don't have a shot in hell for your name, sorry."
His eye wandered. "Was there a reason you came?" It wasn't necessarily odd that he had come just to meet the leader, but hell. Jefferson had met several Crimson Dreams members, past and present, that never ceased to keep him from wondering. For all he knew, this stranger was no different.