Yikes...
The reply he got was vague and simplistic; her tone had so suddenly altered, evident in the subtlety forced in her voice. Green eye raised inquisitively, but as it did, her own green eyes fell to the ground. Something was different, all of a sudden; had he said too much? The brute traced his words through his mind -- no, he hadn't said anything offensive, or at least nothing that he knew of. Perhaps she was defensive of their mother, disappointed that he'd be so pessimistic about her abilities. In the end, Jefferson could only guess that his remark on Deuce and the bitterness of his voice might have been the reason: Deuce had spent time in Dahlia and was treasured there. For all he knew, she and Mew might have been lesbians for each other. Deuce had been so bitter about coyotes; if she and Mew had been close comrades, there was a possibility Mew shared in that ideal. He didn't much care, but the reaction he received from his half-sister was more than unsettling. It was all-out cold.
The cyclops' tattered ears perked when her decision to leave came suddenly; Mew did not hesitate to turn and start away, dismissing him as quickly and easily as one might flick a pestering bug from their shoulder. The Patriarch quickly climbed to his feet, hissing when the extra pressure was pushed on his bad leg. She did not even offer a farewell -- and Jefferson wasn't about to settle for that. Hell, he had barely any family he knew of, even though more and more were unveiling each day. When it came to brothers and sisters, his litter was gone -- he knew that well. Melisandre was gone. His mother was gone. Laruku was gone. All he had left were his coyote-hating half-sister and the half-brother he'd heard to be a monstrosity. "I didn't ask to be this way," he barked, taking a shot in the dark. If he was wrong in his reasoning for her sudden anger, then he'd be corrected. "I didn't ask to have a coyote for a father who stole half my life away when he up and left and I couldn't find him."
He gave up, released a sigh, and settled back on his haunches. Jefferson wasn't going to play the pity party -- but for some reason, defending the coyote heritage he never asked for but was so cruelly disliked for regardless was becoming more and more common. He was sick of it. He was not born of Inferni, but because of his blood, there was a strange illusion he was. "You don't know," he mumbled beneath his breath. "You don't know the hell I've been through because of him."