When Fjolnir heard the familiar and mildly comforting clip-clop of his father's adviser, the prince changed course to meet the centaur head on. "Odin's beard, yes," he answered Orrin's question of his desire immediately, then completely ignored his personal space. Fjolnir's forehead fell against the centaur's body, just below the massive man's chest.
Forlorn Fjolnir sighed against Orrin's tunic when he asked his follow up questions. "I really don't even know anymore." He straightened up and allowed the centaur his space, once more. "My father's ham-handed attempts at reconciliation or my new sister's posturing." To be fair, he didn't know whether or not Rhiannon was posturing. Though, the prince knew he'd had quite enough of this. Another swig of wine passed beyond his lips before he'd summoned the words he'd been searching for. "The Odinsons just enveloped an entirely new brother and we can't handle a half-Midguardian brat."