Fox's Glade Get nothing done

The corners of his eyes crinkled at the comment.
His name was good? No, that can't be it. A flicker of embarrassment swept away by an imposing face that he didn't dare try and comment on it.
He didn't want to do to this child as he'd done to that exotic girl he'd found stuck in the mud.
No. This would be a lot more fun.

His name then came. Charles. A name he'd not considered to be one for a young face before, but time changed, and he accepted it.
He studied the boy. Yearling, but not really growing out.
A child born of mongrel mating. Certainly against his teachings.
He wondered what he could do to this boy.

"Name's Earp," he replied, "Wha' 'appen'd tuh yer ear."
Maybe one like him attacked him before -- there was a moments hesitation at his approach -- or just some childhood accident.