His foul mood, even though he might have argued that he hated his family with more fiery passion than had ever been known, lifted only slightly when Arkham came along. This was not due to any kind of brotherly love for him, but a sort of satisfaction in knowing that the other Lykoi would even approach him; this meant that he still had his connections, and that meant he could use them to his advantage. For the moment, however, the grey-furred boy merely sat down heavily in the sand when he'd drawn close enough to Arkham and smiled in his dark, manic way.
Do yo' kn'w anythin' 'bou' wolves?
If Arkham didn't, he was going to get a crash course from Andrezej, who remembered most of Hybrid's words with an unnatural sense of clarity. If he did, then Andre would be demanding quite unreasonably to be led to them, so that he may rip them apart. His eyes remained fixed on his greyscale brother, and for a moment, he mused on the eyes. Arkham's were still flawlessly blue, and his own had developed tiny blooms of yellow. They would stop changing so quickly soon, he knew, but until they did he was made to believe that his brother had some deformity. The intensity of his stare on the other Lykoi, however, was for a purpose; he truly believed he'd be able to draw the latter answer out of the boy if he stared at him in as menacing a way as possible.