Although DaVinci had left rather suddenly and unexpectedly, Jefferson wasn't taking the change too badly. He'd been testy at first, uncomfortable with all the responsibility returned to him, and spent any and all free time he had (which was not much) napping or otherwise hiding away in the deepest confines of the ranch house he called his home and shared with Geneva. Addison was in and out these days; she was growing up, and it worried him. The few times she'd stopped by she had smelled of cigarettes, and while the beast knew the tobacco sticks weren't in her best interest, ultimately left that decision to her nonetheless. He trusted his daughter.
But even with the naps he'd managed to be getting, the extra stress was a bit too much. The cyclops was an insomniac for a night, spending hours wide awake atop the bed, staring at the ceiling, or moving to the dark, listless window to watch the rain pour down as it had been doing for what seemed like months. The grounds of Phoenix Valley were particularly marshy and made an uncomfortable squish beneath the foot. He realized this as he tread through the rain at some stupid hour in the morning; the sun had risen behind the clouds and the rain lessened temporarily, but bid for more downpour throughout the day. Jefferson, groggy and awake with only half an eye instead of two, walked some half-assed route around the borderlines as he did several times a day, deciding that the movement might help him fall asleep easier when he got around to napping later. An early start to his day wasn't bad, but much more difficult when his head was spinning.
The scent of Dahlia stopped him in his tracks, however. Faint over the musty smell of the rain, the Patriarch paused midstep and raised his nose to the air, immediately waking enough to follow the smell to its owner, who stood looking rather clueless at the pack's edge. Jefferson was not at all smiles and sunshine. "Who are you?"