Memorable to the eye along with his vulgar language, Sacre couldn’t knock the maneless stud for a lacking entrance, the way he barked was enough to draw in two more curious souls from nearby. The Threshold was perfect hunting ground for preying on the next recruit, but the fox-boy saw it as an opportunity to find another friend, though this one he was less inclined to reach out with his heart in search of harmony. How was he meant to connect with this unknown unicorn if he snapped at a simple greeting? What troubled Sacre more was that this may escalate further, he wasn’t the smoothest talker, but when Tilney approached the fox-boy fell into the comfort of his shadow—the Doctor always knew best right?

“No Doctor, I would not be so rude” he replied, but he wasn’t looking at Tilney, rather, he was looking at Mr. Maneless Arrowlegs. Sacre was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, heck maybe the guy had had a particularly disastrous day, not that it excused his choice of words, but the Nurse opened his heart hoping the growing situation might ease. It was then that another, dark stallion entered the conversation. One of his curving horns had a trinket clasped to it and Sacre gazed at it before dropping down to meet his cold gaze and the fox-boy’s eyes narrowed. “Great” he thought, silently hoping that Mortuus wasn’t going to instigate it even further, that his stony face was just a disguise. The words came and Sacre visibly grimaced as the Medic baited him and the painted mare, who was also of the Basin, added to the verbal slap, lacing it with venom.

Were the Basin team trying to make it worse? Perhaps Sacre was missing the point, he had missed the point in the past many times only to realise what was happening later, but this he did not understand. He looked briefly to Tilney with a dubious expression as the maneless stranger delivered his profane reply causing the fox-boy to cringe and his two bonded friends to scamper back behind his rear legs. This wasn’t exactly a conversation for the more innocent of ears.

Feeling an anger rise within him, he bit his lip, struggling to suppress the urge to shout to the Gods above and ask them for peace. Yet, the Nurse felt that his rage would only add to the forming fire and he struggled a moment to contain the wild emotion he always felt so freely. Giving in to this hatred, this temper… Was this how d’Artagnan, his father, had become mad? It was easy to say that the prospect of being anything like the Nightshade frightened him more than his anger at what was in front of him.

“Did you come here to pick a fight?” he groaned at all three of them, the maneless and the two who hailed from the northern mountains. Although as soon as he said it he realised he didn't really want them to answer it.

He considered then whether he should actually extend an offer of invitation to the Worlds Edge to the newcomer or not, it wasn’t like he was very open to the Basin’s offer nor did he seem to appreciate it. Yet, it wasn’t like this stranger couldn’t stumble across the Worlds Edge by himself, the question of joining was down to those of higher rank—like Tilney.

“Whether or not this stranger comes to the Worlds Edge is up to him and those with authority” he shrugged in response to the mare’s suggestion of him coming with them, before turning his head to the Doctor, with his glowing lantern, and placing the situation entirely at his hooves. If he got too more into this he might say something he’d regret later. He also didn't really like using the term stranger, but despite his questioning earlier the guy hadn't given them a name, so stranger he was until Sacre knew what to call him otherwise.

Moving his gaze back to arrow-legs, his head tilting to the side and gesturing towards the path into Helovia. “You can always go it alone—” he then nodded his head in the direction that was beyond Helovia “or go elsewhere” his voice was still warm and inviting despite this, though it was much more forced and his usual bright boyish smile had been squashed into a thin line.