It was true that neither Miss Stockholm nor Jefferson held quite the same qualities of leadership as Savina did, in Kansas's opinion. But he did not believe this mattered. He never heard of troubles within Phoenix Valley; nothing out of the ordinary, at least. The pack seemed stable. It didn't matter that Jefferson was grumpy or that Geneva didn't appear to have the conventional qualities of an alpha, because both of them did a wonderful job of keeping their pack content. To him, there really were no "shoulds," no standard to follow. Jefferson and Geneva were well-suited for the duties required of them, from the little Kansas knew about them.
Kansas caught sight of the sparkle that lit up Geneva's already-striking eyes as she spoke of the scarred man, and it was then that he knew. Somehow, the knowledge of Jefferson having a mate, especially one as likable as the grayscale fey, made him inwardly very happy. Perhaps that was a strange way for him to feel about two wolves he barely knew, but Kansas was just that way.
She spoke to confirm Kansas's suspicion, and he grinned warmly at her. He knew the look in her eyes well, because he'd felt it before: the excitement of a new love, of a love that made sense. "Congratulations," he told her, still smiling. He was appreciative to her for telling him. He didn't get the notion that her mateship was something she went around shouting, and therefore felt honored that she had decided to tell him. "That is really great. I like you both," he voiced, lamely but sincerely. What did it matter to her what he thought, anyway? Feeling stupid, he paused, before looking at her again with warmth in his eyes. "I feel like you two will be very happy together."