Noctisardor Bypass I am that technology allowed.

Anselm quite literally could not believe his ears. He took a long moment to take it in, gaze raking over the riff-raff. It would be one thing if this was some misunderstanding; if the guy showed some ounce of common courtesy or obeisance. This could have de-escalated with an apologetic look, a laugh and an explanation -- but instead the man's gaze hardened, and he spat forth words incinerating enough to make Anselm's blood boil.

He stepped forward briskly. Listen here, you mop-faced fuckhead. A borrowed term courtesy of @Suzu. Anselm angled himself so he stood front and center protectively over the den. This is my business. Those are my kids in there. He grit through clenched teeth, realizing with a small shock he'd just admitted something outloud he could scarcely come to grip with himself.

His kids. He was a father. The emotion was so turbulent it stoked at Anselm's belly in a forge-fire of nerves. His gaze cut from the man to the source of footfall nearby: Fiona, with the scent of blood on her muzzle.

It did not ease Anselm that she did not know this man either. I don't fucking know. He just showed up. Anselm's burning stare cut back to Amadeo, hackles prickled along his nape. He did not like that a man he did not know was in Rivenwood. He liked it even less that this man frequented Heda and professed to have some sort of relationship with her -- and further more, the insult to injury here to Anselm that all of his had transpired without his knowledge, making him feel as if Heda did this to keep him out of the loop.