He hadn't expected, nor desired, a grandiose change of heart and character in his son. Heath was hardened against him now, that much was obvious. Jefferson knew the walls he himself maintained against the world was exactly what lay before him now, under a shield of provoked indifference. Heath had learned to suppress his emotions, it seemed; there was a bitterness to his words, a caustic air as they slipped off his tongue, but the emotion in his eyes was dulled and lifeless. Jefferson was not wanted there, and he did not expect that to change. He as a leader was not done negotiations with Cour des Miracles, as Heath suggested, but he was unfortunately finished as a father with his son. Had he known what the relationship should feel like -- to know the love of a blood-related child, rather than an adopted one like Addson -- perhaps he would have tried harder. For now, the ache in his chest and twist in his stomach informed him that his subconscious was disappointed, despite the firmness of his gaze and stance. Jefferson would not allow himself to seem weakened by the unyielding walls of his unforgiving son. Briefly, he knew what Geneva had faced. He hadn't the slightest idea how to break through them as she had.
His fingers lifted and adjusted the sling at his shoulder once more before the brute answered with a stiff nod. He had nothing to gain, nothing to lose for a relationship with Heath. Things would continue as they would before, with the father knowing of his abused children and the distaste harbored for him. Jefferson would go on as always, independent and dedicated to his pack. Addison was not there anymore. It was like nothing had ever happened in the first place, like the concept that he was a father had never been presented at all. The cyclops turned away, peered at him one-eyed once more, and breathed. "You know where I am," was his only thought. It was unlikely that Heath would come back to repent as Mew had. It was unlikely that any of his children would put aside their inner demons and forgive a creature who had never intended to be the way he was. Perhaps they would have liked Mew. Perhaps she would have liked them. Where was she now? What was she doing? Would she have been a better parent?
Stiff, and with shoulders sagging, he left the way he came.