The Sentinels if you are the dealer, i'm out of the game

arturo's fiery gaze takes in the boy's crooked grin with a knowing sort of smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. his suspicions that form the moment he see's the pale boy's crooked grin on the answer to his question are confirmed in the next words that smokestep speaks. "good," arturo murmurs with a nod of satisfaction. "i've learned that it's unlikely children will ever grow up to be exactly like their parents. they should be allowed to do their own thing when they're old enough to decide their fates and their parent's guidance becomes less heavy handed." even knowing that ...it doesn't mean that parents don't try to fit their kids into boxes of what they want them to be. arturo, himself, is guilty of this. and look where it's gotten him. his oldest children are off doing god knows what, his middle litter was ...well he believes two of them to be dead and assumes that the other two and his youngest two children were still with hemlock. somewhere out there.

arturo takes a moment to weigh the options. though he's ever been one to allow others to have control of the reigns for too long he knows that he will never attempt to reform teaghlaigh. the family is dead; it's a cold, hard fact. this time, it will stay dead. perhaps being a nobody but another grunt worker was exactly the kind of vacation that arturo fearghal needed. "very interested." the coywolf responds.