Blacktail Deer Plateau I deserved that one.

yikes i am slow

His jaw set in a firm line; in that moment he didn't look anything like his doppleganger of a mother, and not really even his lost father - but had either of them known his aunt Niamh there was a clear similarity to the haughty, yet cold, manner of his glare as he looked to the trees. To them, through them — and then slanted his gaze towards Rosalyn as she tried to impart some kind of wisdom with her frustration. 

Deep down Reyes knew she was right, but in the heat of the moment he was too busy trying to distance himself from the memory of what had happened. He didn't want to think about what had occurred with him, and as his mind began to piece together a scenario in which Rosalyn was standing in his place -- he wanted to vomit, and so had to force the sensation back down his gullet before the nauseated look could take hold of his face. He became solid and frigid, like sea ice, and it was unbecoming.

He turns an ear to a sound - or maybe he's pretending to hear someone calling for him on the wind; either way, it is a prompt to signify his disinterest with a continuation. Reyes wants an escape from this strained conversation; he doesn't leave her outright, though. A childish notion overtakes him - as if he needs to be dismissed, suddenly the obedient son despite his tied tongue. 

(Again, a wave of that same ill tide rises up within himself; he envisions Lynford—his posture tensing--)