Ira entertained the notion, as he made his way towards where Kaname’s summons had risen from, of punishments for the ebon male who had dared to summon him as if he were some sort of common mutt. He was no one’s lap dog and definitely not so low as to accept summons from wolves that Princeling thought by all rights should be under him. The Princeling watched the man roll his eyes, and thought that perhaps that was supposed to be his own reaction: the rolling of the eyes in annoyance; because Ira was annoyed that he’d been summoned. Apprentice, there it was like some big ugly infection in his mind. Apprentice. Ira nearly snorted and barely caught it before the air could expel from his black, leathery nostrils. He hated the word though he understood until he came of age that was all anyone would ever think of him: that he was an apprentice. That he had promise but lacked the necessary skills. He had plenty of skills and a dark mind to compliment them. Still, did he wish to humor Kaname by ‘agreeing’ to this lesson and quietly soak up anything the man had to teach him that he did not already know, after all Ira was contended with his knowledge of poisons not liking to get to the nitty gritty of killing. He was far too shallow for that.
His wound, possibly a future scar already bothered him more than he cared to admit to anyone. Scars were ugly and like many things Ira hated them.