[/html]The boy maintained a calmer air, one much different from that of their first meeting; seeing no initial conflict in the boy's peculiar turquoise eyes, Jefferson eased out of his ferocious stance. His guard was not dropped, nor did he spare his son his pointed, one-eyed gaze for even the briefest moment. Out of the three, he trusted this one the least: Miriette had lived among them in Phoenix Valley peacefully for a time, brooding but out of trouble. Heath had his own life and family in Cour des Miracles, preferring to be simply left alone, seemingly having moved on. Jefferson was grateful for that. However, this third boy, the nameless one, the cyclops did not know a thing about.
"Wish I could say the same," Jefferson muttered, his tone gravelly, displeased. This boy would be treated no different from any other that wandered to his borders without a clue; blood made no difference to Jefferson when it came to strangers, and this boy was exactly that. "Your siblings have moved on from all this bullshit, but I don't know a thing about who you are."
He dipped his head, eye glowing, talons extended from good hand and bad alike. "Now, answer the question."
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