Rafe has known plenty of fools in his time. Plenty of stallions who think themselves above it all, above the need for allies and support. Rafe knows better - isolation is defeat. No one can rule with enemies on all sides. Clearly, this child has not yet learned the lesson. Rafe is irritated at the reaction he’s received, but there is little benefit in showing it. Instead, he quirks his mouth up in a half-snort, casting an incredulous glance at the sandy stallion. “I never asked for your trust,” Rafe breaks in, his tone that amused and dismissive drawl that so irritates his mares. “I didn’t even ask for your name.” An introduction is hardly a demand for an alliance, and it isn’t as if Rafe came traipsing in offering such a thing. Would it help? Certainly. One less thing to worry about. But he won’t suffer fools, and knows better than to carry another's weakness.

He’s immediately dismissed, and Rafe’s amused, icy gaze slides over the young stallion, filing away the information he’s gleaned. This stallion identifies himself as being a son of someone, as if the strange name is one Rafe should have heard before. He hasn’t, but perhaps Nyimara has. She has connections on the islands, ones that won’t hurt to leverage. “Mmm,” he hums softly, shrugging a shoulder. “It looks pressing,” Rafe needles. There’s not another soul in sight, not even the scent of a single mare on the wind. He pointedly glances around the empty land, then adds, “Don’t me keep you.” If he leaves now, he can make it back to the Badlands before the heat gets miserable. Rafe moves away, back towards his own border and tosses over his shoulder, “When you’ve changed your mind, Nikolaus, and have decided it isn’t glamorous to have an entire island allied against you, well, you know where to find me.” He will make the boy beg for forgiveness, of course, but perhaps if he’s caught on a good day Rafe will welcome him into the fold.