He wasn't fond of the outsider, this much was a given. Wesley didn't know what elder Gorwin saw in them, breaking Nel'Vari's sacred traditions in order to accommodate this mere stranger.
He fought to stay professional, especially in the presence of the elder, but something about the outsider made him seethe each time he caught a glimpse of them in their hidden village, it mattered not what they were doing — hanging out at the tavern, speaking to the locals, taking tasks off the bulletin board, walking in and out of the path to their farm.
See why he disliked them so much? No? Simply put, Wesley couldn't figure them out.
Why was their village thriving with their help? Why did the villagers actually seemed to like them? Why did he feel the weakening mana that protected and nurtured their village actually restoring with the arrival of this commoner?
Was it a trap? What would they gain from this? They must have an ulterior motive as all outsiders do — the moment they grew dissatisfied with what the village offered them, they would destroy it, and there would be nothing left for them.
Right?
...
In the tavern, Wesley had been staring at the outsider with an icy look for far too long, and he only realized this once the outsider took notice of it and started walking his way. Snapping out of his internal tangent, his face gained some mortifying color before he scoffed, looking away to sip his drink, hoping the outsider would leave him alone.