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you are left, and so am I
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Jefferson saw the surprise in her reaction to his words matched with the look of compassion she'd worn prior; the girl was definitely a feeler rather than thinker, though the Patriarch supposed he was rather pitiful-looking. With a missing eye, useless leg and limp, and countless scars to boot, Jefferson made a different impact depending on who looking at him: feelers felt compassion, while thinkers felt intimidation. Thus far, that logic was nearly unfailing. The only wolf he could think of that had not reacted to any of his words or appearance had been the black wolfess Cwmfen of Dahlia, but then again, she hadn't had much personality for anything else, either.
The stranger responded promptly and politely, something the grumpy Patriarch didn't take for granted. More often than not, he was met with retaliation when it came to strangers at his borders; most likely his demeanor and greetings were often the cause of that, but what did he care? As far as Jefferson was concerned, he led the pack. Those that wanted access or membership were not welcome if they could not show respect nor act even relatively calmly in the face of potential danger. Half of his act, of course, usually had an intention of proving that right or wrong. "Smart girl," he nodded, then collapsed back onto his haunches with a clear oomph. After taking a moment to breathe and wait for the throbbing in his leg to subside a little, he continued. "You reek of Crimson Dreams, so I'm assuming you're either here for Geneva or Naniko. The latter and I aren't on good terms, so I don't know where the hell she is. I'd assume in one place, though, since she's got pups."
He straightened, eyeing the white wolfess with an analytical single eye. "What's your name?" Jefferson said slowly, a hint of suspicion still in his voice.
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