"Other family heads haven't been in the gutter for a few generations." Not like him and Felix. York grew up there and got hauled in, worked his way up- Felix climbed up with a viscous sort of understanding for the game. As long as those knives were turned against the family? York didn't much care. He didn't bring too much attention to the business and didn't start shit he wasn't ready to finish and that made him more decent than most idiots that clawed their way up and had more money and power than sense. York relaxed a touch, smirk on his lips, something small and friendly because- well.

They did both have a better idea of how to get shit done than the other heads of various families. Knowing when to do the bullshit and when to cut to the chase is pretty damn important.

The smile faded in short order at the mention of the auction. The misunderstanding. All the little tells and tricks and everything in Locus that painted him as uncertain of his standing with York. You didn't ask a man to put on the hood and then sell him; you sure as shit didn't do it as, what, a mistake? Maine rumbled behind him quietly and York made a brief gesture with his hand, cutting off that sound of discontent. "I don't sell my hawks."

Hiding the contempt inherent in the statement was...difficult and he didn't rightly manage it entirely. Some things in the family were knew- but this? The mews, how they were handled? As old fashioned as it got. "And I don't recall your name being on his paperwork anymore."