The swelling tide of the boy’s fury was evident in the harsh angles of his expression, the rising volume of his voice. And then suddenly it threatened to engulf Jaskier, their bodies all but tangling together again as the yearling took a step forward. Closing the small gulf between them down to bare inches. Inches breached by the swell of his chest and the warm, stale scent of his breath. And as close as they were to one another physically, the buckskin sensed that they were even closer to tumbling from hostility into violence. A single gesture, a single syllable, and words would be traded for blows. For a moment, he even wanted it, if only for the release that it promised. Wanted to drive for the colt like the relentless wind of a tropical storm, throw himself at the red body like the Harbor’s storm-wracked waves.

But even as his lean figure began to tip forward, Jaskier hesitated. His molten-gold eyes clearing, the serrated rhythm of his breath steadying. The dark clouds of his own resentment pierced by the ray of a single truth: he stood nothing at all to gain in this fight. And more, there was the risk that even in victory, he might lose. Because the boy’s words (and his own) were a reminder that he belonged to somebody, and that somebody was not likely to let an attack go unanswered. Jaskier might not give a shit if his actions fell back on him, but there was always the possibility that Enya might answer for his crimes instead. Or his own son, too innocent to the hard realities of this world to be wary. And the thought of Adrianus bruised and battered on the shore of his home was enough to smother the bright flame of his anger beneath a layer of ash.

It still burned, but the fire in his blood no longer swept through him unchecked.

Wrinkling his dark lips back to show blunt teeth, he faced the boy down with a bitter laugh. “You think that I know nothing? I’ve learned enough to fill that empty skull of yours with room to spare, kid. Including what a waste of breath it is trying to argue how things are supposed to be with someone bigger than you. If that actually worked, then I wouldn't be here, dipshit.” He paused for a heartbeat, relishing the cruelty of his words as a substitute for the blows he wasn’t brave (or cowardly, depending perhaps on who you asked) to throw.

And then continued, his next syllables neither softer nor gentler, but absent of their previous vitriol. “But you’re right, I don’t know your family...and I don’t care to. Just as I don’t care to know you, and you don’t care to know me. And as long as we agree on that, we could also agree to shut the hell up and leave each other alone.” One ear emerged slowly from the inky coils of his mane, pointing towards the roan yearling.

Waiting for his answer with interest only insofar as it might determine his next actions.