And so he came as summoned, as he always did, in the most prompt manner possible. That said, he was prompt, but he was not exactly sunny in mood, though that was hardly a surprise to those that knew him especially after the recent loss of his arm.
But he arrived there, and perhaps that was all that mattered. Geneva had her own problems to attend to, lately; she had been respectfully removed from her duties as his assistant, and as such, Jefferson ruled the Valley alone once more. He was accustomed to it, in the end, and as the pack was somehow still flourishing after over two years of his leadership, it seemed he was doing something right, foul mood or not.
"I'm here," he said, gruff tone as always, as he came upon them. The scarred man glanced them each over one by one, then continued when his eye focused on the stranger. "I'm Jefferson, and you're trespassing on claimed land. If you're looking to stay, you'd better start explaining how you'll be of any use to me."
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