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Bess
He was in a mood. If asked, Drystan's reply would of course be that it was caused by the gossip feature and his wife's appearance in it. If someone else had been asked, they might have said his mood had been going on for a time longer than that. However, if his teammates had noticed he was a surlier sort of quiet, the matter hadn't been remarked upon. Nonetheless, he could feel the dark edges of temper creeping up on him, waiting to surpass the boiling point. As a matter of course, Drystan considered himself an even-natured sort, not prone to extremes of emotions. His family had a passionate nature, so biology had taken it upon itself to make him the stalwart. There were exceptions, of course, very memorable ones, like the times he never acted out but ought to have built upon themselves to the point of exploding. But they were few and far between, and he tried not to dwell on them. Drystan tried for a shower, hoping to relax and ease his foul state of mind, but the hot steam was a catalyst for the searing headache he'd been flirting with all during practice and left him simply in a blacker mood than before.

Even the prospect of coming home after a long day gave him no real relief. Barely sparing a moment to notice Penelope had evidently taken the children out for a night, he forewent the usual niceties and greetings to his wife and instead threw a copy of the Tattler on the table and pressed his hand to his closed eyes. "If you're going to carry on assignations with my rival players, you might avoid the cameras."