He’s quiet, blue eyes focused on the form in front of him. The Peggies have given him space, a seething John is never fun to be around, most of them hadn’t seen him quite like this yet. Angry, hating. He’s always been expressive; but he’s dangerous when he hides it. What would Joseph say about his Wrath?

What would he say about his Pride? The idea that you would be far better in his care swells his ego. He knows it to be true; Jacob treats you like a bad dog, locked in a cage and forced into the ring. Perhaps his older brother is right on one thing, you have been bad, Deputy. Fighting him and his family at every turn, but it doesn’t mean you should be treated like this.

No, he can picture you already. In his care, you’ll be the perfect deer. Antlers he shredded from you mounted to the wall, hide laid out over his floor in front of the fireplace, meat packaged and in the freezer. You’ll be stripped of everything you once were and born anew, preferably at his side but who is he to say no to whatever Joseph does with you? Regardless; his hands meet the cold metal bars of the cage you are bound to, head tilting to the side to observe you. You’re a good pet, at least, when you’re shaking and scared.

“Oh Deputy. How the mighty have fallen, hm? Where’s your little band of ungratefuls when you need them?”