All three of the whelps gave him relatively clueless looks at the concept of their pack and Inferni opposing, at which the great cyclops sighed audibly and frowned. Ty and Skylar were DaVinci's brats; they'd both met with him by now. How had it not come up in conversation, especially considering how much the silver-furred idiot mused and dreamt about Ryan day by day? What the hell were they talking about if it somehow never came up? As for the Inferni boy, well, Gabriel didn't strike the Patriarch as being the incredibly social or outgoing type, and most likely the clan was in a similar state as his own. The less who knew, the better: less people to come snarling at the doorstep, in the end.
"Oh yes, I'd love to take a day off," the cyclops muttered bitterly, turning a pointed gaze at the girl. "But if I did that, I'd be leaving the pack to your dreamer of a father for twenty-four hours." Jefferson had enough manners to know that there was no need to sass DaVinci, especially because he didn't have the enjoyment of the subleader's company to laugh at and argue with as they always did. His kids knew they were friends; they were probably very accustomed to Jefferson and DaVinci snapping at each other all in fun. There was a level of seriousness to it all, but the friendship between the two had reached some point where they could argue to the death but somehow still take pleasure in it. The brute did notice Vexx's gape at the many scars and gashes that uncomfortably adorned the one-armed man's body, but said nothing and turned to Ty instead. "We should clear the area," he scowled, gruesome memories furrowing his brow. "Last time I fought with a bear, she lunched on my leg. Get moving." He motioned at the two with his good arm, then turned his gaze back to Vexx. "...If you want to stay until she's gotten some distance, fine," the cyclops muttered, but the sharpness of his green eye leaked of distrust.