|In case you haven't already guessed, our Infamous is not a particularly social creature. He is an introvert of the most smug sort, preferring to share his various revelations and epiphanies with no one but himself. He doesn't trust others, his thought process being that someone is always going to find the motivation to betray you. He wasn't planning on making friends or becoming "involved." He was simply going to live here, become an accessory in the manner of a rock, tree or similiar. A fixation that no one ever thinks of until it one day disappears. He hadn't made conversation with any but the king INDUS, and even though he sensed INDUS didn't care for him, he didn't think that the other stallion would have such hostility as to begin an assault upon him at random. So you can see why he would have been surprised (for the first time since his arrival) when WRATHFELT nearly bowled him over in her frightened, blinded dash. Unlike the casual observer, however, Infamous knew not the mare's name, nor her motivation for coming upon his peaceful rest with a barrage of slim limbs and sharp hooves. He only knew she meant harm upon him, however misguided it might be. His moment of surprise was quickly ousted by instinctual reaction, and he countered her assualt with surprising grace for his normally idle form. He rose upon suddenly active quarters to free his front end, and with said appendages struck once at the mare's slim chest. A mere blocking motion, it should do no more than knock the wind from her for a moment. Despite the quickness of his reaction, she had still risen a welt upon his powerful shoulder. Red and angry, it was beginning to seep crimson that stained his charcoal coat a shade still darker. He was breathing hard, his petite ears laced back upon his tangle of a mane. His calm, battle mode was replaced quickly by anger as she backed away. Before he could notice the shell-shocked ring about her dark eye and the way she trembled as a creature frightened should, he lashed out brutally in his deep bass.
"F.ucking hell, mare!"
He narrowed his eyes, fixing her with a firey conflagration of a gaze before he met her eyes. The fires dimmed quickly and were replaced by confusion as he noticed the evidence of her fright. Without noticing, he took a few steps forward and affixed a rarely-used caring gaze upon her own.
He was at a rare loss-for-words, as he'd expected the onslaught to be backed up with a tirade of judgemental remarks, perhaps coming from some kind of seventeen-hand terror. The dainty mare present before him was none of the above; she was overweighted by a thick mane, her ringed eyes peering from a veil not unlike his own. He stepped forward again, confusion switching once again to concern, an emotion he didn't recognize as he rarely felt concern for any. It was, apparently, a day for firsts.