Horizon Ridge plantains

There was an immediate displeasure when the younger and smaller male's gaze sought to meet the gangster's own. It was contradictory to the submissive way in which he had bowed his head seconds before. Fiery, red-orange gaze was unrelenting and though everything within Arturo desired to be dominant, there was no telling yet which way this conversation would swing and he had not placed Furiosa as his Second in Command and red herring to ignore her role to him and The Family. His displeasure did not make it to his indifferent expression, nor did it change the gangster's stance. It was as tall and proud as it ever was. Yet gave no impression that he was anything but he was: another wolf. Not a lone wolf, for no doubt the scents of Teaghlaigh could easily be picked up by the other.

The young man's question held the same sarcastic edge to it that reminded Arturo of his eldest son, Bane. His eldest son had the penchant for being cynical and cheeky. A slight twitch of the Ceannasach's lips were given before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “No,” Arturo responded, the smoky reticence of his accented voice low and deep. “If you were trespassing you would have woken up with my teeth around your throat.” It was not spoken as a threat — simply as a matter of fact. Arturo tolerated trespassers as much as he tolerated betrayers: which was to say not at all.