Tony was angry. Furious. After finding out about his father's whorish ways he'd not stopped shaking. Externally his eyes were ochre, like dark mustard, but internally they blazed like hell fire. Red. A mist covered his vision as he stormed towards the borders on Milite the very horse that had near paralysed him. His arm was still broken, but healing steadily. And it didn't affect his riding in any way, Tony rode with one hand and urged the stallion on faster. He'd speak with this Skye. This supposed ally.
He landed on the borders, dismounting quickly and marched forwards towards the only person he could see. He was larger, and held more mass than the woman, and he attempted to use that to his advantage. 'Ah want t' speak with Skye Collins' he said sternly, his voice even but breaking with anger. His tail beat the air behind him furiously.
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