Rob-Will stood at the kitchen counter as you entered the house. He put out a cigarette in the nearby ash tray and moved to the door way, his footsteps heavy and evidently noticeable. His large 6'1 frame filled the door frame. His cold blue eyes stare you down. He sees movement in his perepheral.

"Oreana, get back upstairs."

He told his eldest daughter, never removing his stare from you—his second and youngest. He watched the blonde teenager look between you both before heading upstairs, wise enough to not piss him off further than he already was.