Amends

[Jefferson Soul]

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As her smile vanished, the cyclops began to rethink his strategy. True, he was bad with children, but he knew better than to give the poor pups a bad impression. Single eye glancing down at the two again, it became obvious enough that even before he'd muttered darkly, his niece and nephew had already been frightened by him. He knew he was an intimidating figure; the brute had never asked for the gruesome scars that marked his body like war decorations in the same way he'd never asked to be a father. Things just sort of happened to Jefferson and he took them in stride when they happened. Later on, however, he would ruthlessly wreak revenge on everyone around him to satisfy the burning intensity inside. He'd never chosen to be a rapist, a bad father, a pack leader -- but they'd each happened. Jefferson could decide to be a bad brother and uncle, though. As she finished speaking, the Patriarch lowered himself onto his haunches. His leg was aching terribly from the cold, and any opportunity to get off of it was welcome. Jefferson's eye wandered from his sister back to the two children, still cowering under the improvisational sanctuary their mother provided for them. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled long. "I'm sorry, kids," he started, suddenly wearing a sad smile that, surprising even to himself, was not forced. "I didn't mean to be harsh. Uncle Jefferson is a grumpy old codger sometimes." His ear twitched, eye glancing up at their mother just briefly before returning to the pups. "You two have names, right? Or can I name you myself?" He mimicked a pondering face as if he was thinking deeply about it. "How about Jack and Jill? Bob and Mary? Phil and Shmoe?" A wide, pleasant grin. Jefferson didn't know he knew how to tease.

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