It was a pain in the ass.
Needless to say, the one-eyed idiot was quickly distracted by the lingering scent of strangers, and as always, he took off without a second's hesitance toward its origination. Perhaps he was overprotective of the pack; perhaps, with time, he'd grown to love what he had been charged with, even if the brutish ass wouldn't admit to it to anyone but Geneva (and only after a good share of nagging to get it out of him). Not only one foreign scent tore at the sanctuary's air; two unknown beings were out in his land. What had he been doing prior to taking off like loony from an asylum? Good question.
As if following tendencies, Jefferson burst onto the scene gasping for breath, wild-eyed (well, the eye that was open), and clearly not in the brightest of moods. A long, overdrawn period of staring at them both drew down the madness and smoothed it into a completely puzzled look, after which he snorted and straightened up to a more appropriate stance. "So, I don't know either of you," he began, looking at them both, "but one of you's pregnant and the other one smells like high hell." He rolled his shoulders, plucked his good arm on his hip, and leaned back condescendingly. "Looks like the beginnings of an orgy, but I should get to know you first. I'm Jefferson and you don't live here." Fucking asshole.