R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman.

Ricciardo, despite the irate behaviour, dipped his crown in respect for the Doctor. Of course he knew that getting above d'Art was not on the agenda, there was only one place he sought for the time being, and there was always the case that he may never even reach that.
"For future reference, d'Artagnan, I have no desire to be above you." The flame-kissed pelt knew this may sound like ass-kissing and sucking up to him, but that was not the case. The hard gaze that he continued to hold as he looked upon the two creatures said otherwise. As much as his tone was still polite, it bore a certain irritated characteristic to it, showing perhaps a little too much of his emotions. It was not out of choice that he felt so vexed, he wondered why he did. Perhaps in time, when he had settled and even made friends would he start to feel more comfortable.

Ricciardo pondered over the fact that since he had been forced to leave his first homelands, he was alone. And lonely. There was not much that he would be able to do about this for the time being, for it seemed that he was being spat on from all corners of the ranks. This meant little refuge from the other members, of whom he was still yet to meet. The burly brute tried to push these thoughts out of his mind, but to little avail. Instead, they watered down the choleric nature he was stuck in, and brought him back down to earth slightly. The sorrel sir was still of course pissed off, but he knew that he had no strength to keep it up.

Whilst d'Artagnan mocked him in front of the stranger, who's name now to light, Alan, the dame went ballistic. Her ears pinned back, lifting herself onto her hind pillars, the sienna vixen was equally as pissed off as he was. He took heed of her warning, vowing silently not to mention any sort of female lady-like behaviour he could link to her, but still did not budge. He held his ground and continued his stature with emotionless grace. Yet as she began to thrust her velveteens menacingly close to his crown, he did back away slightly, pushing his pillars back a step or two. Perhaps this was what she wanted, to feel she had power over him.

For the time being, Ricciardo was nothing more than one of the new horned creatures in the Edge, and he guessed that it meant having to tolerate the behaviour of the other members until this had worn off. He was the clown, the one that needed to be put in his place and he decided to gladly oblige to this. Getting on the wrong side of too many of the members was something that he would not risk, when he had such plans. Instead, the rebellious nature hidden deep within him would stay hidden. He was intelligent, and he needed to act it. As well as being the usual calm brute. He continued to apologise to Alan, as would any polite beast, "I apologise if I have offended you. You can be sure it will not happen again, Alan." There was no amusement in his eyes, just a hint of apology and the majority a cold, emotionless shell. His sanded orbs would not give anything away.

I shall not muck this up, I shall act accordingly and true to myself.