"Wearing fur is somewhat barbaric, don't you think?" The cyclops turned his eye to the dark male and snorted. They as Luperci were barbaric in nature already; they stood on two legs with capable thumbs and the mental capacity for working human mechanics, unique to they alone in their day and age, and yet they still ran on four legs and hunted rabbit and deer like their feral ancestors. It didn't make much sense in Jefferson's mind, but he figured it was probably easiest that way. He himself was no good with human contraptions, and thus his feral instincts still came in handy.
"I'm just getting old," he resigned, the sigh slipping through his teeth in the form of a cloud. He was not the eldest he had seen, not in the least, but he was much older than most. How he had managed to survive, especially considering all Maluki had done, was a wonder to him. The scars that marked his body, of course, reminded him that he'd been close countless times. He shrugged. "I haven't met Conor yet. He's my nephew. His father was my half-brother, and from what I can see, his son's doing pretty well."
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