His head jerked up, his eyes narrowing. Her words about his father caused him to snort disdainfully. "Please. My father is a dreamer and a tree hugging hippie. I don't have to be just like him. He lives in the same past his mother did. I don't want to be like them." His ears pinned back as she seemed to grow taller, something fiercer about her that almost -ALMOST- brought some respect into his face. And then she knocked him down in rank, and he growled softly.
Traditore. He'd have to listen to everyone and obey their every little whim. He sneered. "Good luck with that, Skye. I don't give a rip what you think about me, or what anyone thinks about me. I know what honor and respect are." His unspoken words intimated that she was worth neither one from his point of view. And yet, there was something, something almost wary in his eyes. There was something that had spooked him, something about her. He couldn't put a finger on it, though. Perhaps it was the fearless way she looked at him, it reminded him of someone else.
Almost absently, he looked down, centuries of instinct forcing his hand while he was unaware of it. Her tone of voice, the way she stared at him, all caused him to submit, even if it was all instinctual instead of deliberate.
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