As she shifted up to meet his height, the male looked lazily in another direction, but directed his gaze immediately to her stomach upon turning back. He knew that roundness well enough; perhaps that was why she carried despair in her eyes, to be pregnant at a time like this. When she straightened up, his gaze did as well, meeting her face emotionlessly before she could realize he'd noticed at all.
Her words were blunt and quick, and the Patriarch simply stared at her a moment in their wake as he attempted to make sense of them. He could have snapped something sarcastic, something rude and very typical for Jefferson, but the brute did not. His gaze grew sympathetic slowly, putting two and two together, and a sigh burst through his defenses as he bowed his head.
"I see," he said, raising scarred fingers to rub his eyes. A moment more of consideration, then he turned his gaze to her once more. "Who did it? When?" And a subtle what happened? was also hinted in his gentle, yet weary, tone.
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