Something ignites in Boris Glacius' words, his eyes flaring as he casts his supposed nephew a look -- it is not one of pure anger, but also apprehension, fear. The way it shakes him is unbecoming of a man so obviously strong, but he does little to hide it as he kneels, bringing himself closer to Carlisle's height as he turns to face him.

"D'your father tell you that?" he questions, his lip twitching just enough to show his teeth. He seems to realize immediately that aggravation is not the right course of action, and reels in it, his mighty brow knitting tightly as he averts his eyes for a second or two, then returns them to Glacius, his hand still on his shoulder. "Look, no matter what Kevin thought, you are a Longinmouth. You will always be a Longinmouth, no matter what roads you may take... or what paths you are forced upon by circumstance. They do not change who you are, and whomever that may be, you embrace it, lad. Understand?"