he'd been making a return to heda when he was halted.
it was so abrupt, the shriek from the sharp-tongued brat; andras is almost slow to register what is said to him as if it were a language he'd never heard before. who the fuck are you?
if he was not undercover, he would have smacked him right then and there — but these soft-hearted fools don't seem as though they'd be receptive of that behavior, and so the prophet simply stares at the interloper, hardlined and unphased.
amadeo, he responds matter-of-factly, almost smug. i have been here since the end of winter, but i suppose we haven't crossed paths yet. i suggest you watch your tone with people you do not know. it's very rude. and not exactly christ-like, if someone were to ask him.

who does this entitled roach think he is? andras blows a puff of air from his nostrils, swallowing the growl that threatens to lurch from his throat. he savors the thought of what it might be like to carry the boy's head as a trophy, to watch it rot and decay —
scusami? his gaze hardens now, one tattered ear flicking in annoyance. mind your own business, little boy. i want no trouble. heda is a friend. she is a mother in need, and i made a promise to help where i could. now if you'll excuse me, he grunts as he begins to strafe away. i was in the middle of something. che gazzo!

so he was the interloper.
the shrimp-dicked bastard who had sown a perfectly good breeder with his filthy, despondent seed! the vile beast who had not even the decency to marry her beforehand! and yet he claimed those boys as his own.
he almost pitied him.
my apologies, then, a hard kernel of rage still rests behind his eyes, but he backs away against the instinct that begged, screamed to spill his guts upon the ground. another face arrives, this time a woman, and andras makes himself appear even more plain; his ears twitch and flick until they flatten, and his tail drops until it reaches his heels. my name is amadeo. i am new here, as of a few weeks ago. i spent some time away to go looking for my daughter, as i found out she lived nearby, he gestures now to the new cuts along his face, his torn shoulder. and then i had a run-in with a cat. i'm only just now getting the chance to settle. code word: his cunt of a daughter whom his wife should have swallowed.

the girl has a good head on her shoulders, it seems; she offers him her medical services, and while he would never typically take such from a breeder, he dips his head in thanks. perhaps i will take you up on that offer. i don't want to get an infection. i am getting older! my body cannot fight it off like it used to, hah.
i did find her, and she is well, his expression clears, lighting up in feigned interest as fiona begins to make small-talk with him. she is expecting her first litter with her new husband. i may go to visit again after they are born.
his gaze is unsure as he looks again to the black-mouthed infantile. the little shit is stunned, as andras had expected; he looks like the asshole now, and the father hides the pleasure he takes in this with a tilt of his head away in submission. i apologize again for intruding, he mutters. can you at least send heda my well wishes?