It's on the tip of his tongue to ask a dry, unimpressed who- at least, until he catches the look on her face and he stops, head tilting to one side, eyebrow lifting in disbelief.

"No way," he says, rather than guessing, because he already knows. Just by that anger in her eyes, it burns deeply and unmistakably, and there's only one person it burns for. He's pissed off on her behalf in an instant, a frown spreading across his features. There's a not of disbelief in her tone when he asks, "That asshole's coming around again?"

Call him a loyalist, but he doesn't fuck around with the people he cares about, and he's not cool with people screwing with them.