Shadewood Stamford is closed

Don't call me that, you sound like dad, Ambrose scoffed, entirely honest in that assessment even if it sounded like teasing. His comment was spoken with a low enough tone to be missed though, as he did not want to start anything. Ambrose watched his brother for a moment as if studying a sheet of ice ready to crack beneath his feet, and when he was met with familial bolstering he decided everything was alright.

I thought I smelled her around here, he remarked in response to Bruges.

I was hunting the other day and I ran in to a couple pack wolves. It was the weirdest thing, because they smelled a bit like Niamh. I think she's living with them now. As he finished reporting this he shrugged and added, I assume that's why you're here, right? Looking for somewhere else to rest your head, mooch some food, or charm the locals?

His voice had turned a bit too sharp as he mentioned the locals; again, he had to hold back on saying things that he meant outright. Bruges had really screwed him over with his last stunt and no amount of time would heal that wound of his (or so he told himself). If Bruges was here, and he knew of Niamh, then it was only a matter of time before he made her life implode. He might've claimed to be looking out for her — but that was Ambrose's job, and always had been.

His baby blues narrowed after a few moments, and he sniped as casually as he could, Why are you really here, Bruges?