Just because Violet hates him does not mean that this 'Jonas Pace' isn't getting checked out.

So Keye is here. He looked the man up, and now he is at the door, knocking.

I'm sure it's been said before, but Keye is disconcerting to look at if you don't know him. He has the wild hair, the eye patch, visible scars, he's more than six-and-a-half feet tall, looks like he hasn't slept in two weeks, and his hands shake.
Hello, Jonas.

Jonas answers the door, wearing his usual loose jeans and a white wifebeater. He looks like he just woke up, as his hair is tumbled around his shoulders and tangled, and his eyes are bleary.

He blinks.

Then again.

"Can I help you?"

He hasn't done anything to warrant getting chased down by an irate boyfriend, brother, or friend.

So who's this?

"You Jonas Pace?"
He's not irate, just businesslike. Jonas hasn't done anything wrong yet.

"Who's looking for him?"

He's cautious.

Don't blame him - Keye is a trifle intimidating.

Keye blinks several times, because he is now very confused.
"Well, um, me."

"And who exactly are you?"

Do I know you?

"Oh! Um."
Keye is not very good at this.
"I'm, uh, my name's Keye. I'm a...well, um, I, uh, I know V-violet."

"I see."

Jonas relaxes a bit.

"Yes, I'm Jonas. Coming in?"

"I, uh..." nod. "Sure. Yeah."

"Want something to drink?"

He steps back to allow Keye entry and is already headed towards the kitchen.

"So you're a friend of Violet's?"

He's pretty sure that Jonas has taken control of the encounter, and he's pretty sure he intended to be the one in control.
He steps inside.
"Um...some water would be...cool."

"All right."

Jonas gets a glass and fills it with ice.

"I suppose you're suspicious of my motives or something like that. Promise, I'm not a serial killer."

"I just wanna make sure you're not some freak."
He fidgets.
A lot.
In fact, he looks rather miserable.

Jonas hands him the glass.

"That depends on your definition of freak. I'm not dangerous, if that's what you mean."

He grins.

"Although I have been chased out of a lady's house with a broom before."

More than once. Cough.

He takes the water and stares into it.
"Just don't mess with Vi, okay? I'll fuck you up if you do."

"Mess with her how? She could have been my daughter."

Ew. He doesn't hit on girls younger than his son.

"I went out with her mother."

Ewww.

"Any way. If you're bitter or somethin'."
He shakes his head.
"Not that way. I heard." And then we had a fight.

"Bitter? You mean about Patrizia?"

He pours himself a glass of milk.

"Of course I'm bitter. The bitch left me on 'Teo's third birthday, but that doesn't mean I'm going to take it out on her daughter. Not Violet's fault."

"Damn right it's not."

Now he isn't even sure what he's doing here.

"...that sucks."
That Patrizia left, that is.

"It really does."

He takes a drink of milk.

"Now, you're not her boyfriend, because she said his name was Dave. Protective friend, then? Older brother type?"

"I, um..." he puts the water, untouched, down on the countertop. "I'm not sure. I, um...I d-don't think she l-likes me anymore."

"Mm? Why's that?"

And why are you coming and investigating me if you aren't her friend?

Sense, please.

"W-well, well, after she t-told me about you and M-matteo, I, um...we...k-kinda had a fight. And she walked off."

He still wants to make sure this guy isn't a freak, because Vi's well-being is still important to him.

"I certainly hope it wasn't over us..."

That would rather be a bad start to a friendship with his ex's daughter.

"N-no."
He picks up the glass of water.
"It was m-my fault."

"Not that it's any of my business, but what happened?"

He's got a young man in his home, clearly upset, and you think he isn't going to try to help?

He's quite a nice fellow, you know.

"I, um..." he glances sideways at Jonas.
He can always leave, right? If the guy freaks out about how crazy she is?
"Sh-she thought I should see a shrink, and, and I d-didn't w-want to, and she...she just l-looked at me, and I told 'er she d-didn't know everything, and she said 'I know that,' and just walked away."

"I see."

He considers this.

"Why does she think you should see a shrink?"

"'Cause I get freaked out easy and when I get freaked out, sometimes I hit people."
Which she'd actually defended a bit, at first. So, really, it is his fault for pursuing the subject.
"And, um...yeah."

"I see."

He leans against the counter and scuffs a hoof thoughtfully against the floor. (Wait, did she tell him about the nonhuman aspect of things? Oh well.)

"That does sound like it could be a problem. So why don't you want to see a shrink?"

"'Cause I been to one before." he hugs himself. "They look at me funny. And, and...s-sometimes they wanna lock you up."

"Oh."

... Jonas does not know how to handle this. He has his own problems, chief of which being a rather possessive goddess...

"I don't know either of you well enough to make much of a suggestion, but if she thinks you should see a doctor, she probably cares about you more than otherwise."

He looks at Jonas with something like pleading bewilderment in his eyes.
"She was g-giving me this look, though. Like...like..."
He sniffles, of course. What were you expecting?
"Like I was just bein' dumb, and...and I guess I k-kinda chased her off by saying that, and n-now she hates me."

Sigh.

"Seriously, kid... you said your name was Keye? Sounds to me like she's worried about you. Maybe you need help, maybe you don't. I don't know. But don't flat out assume she hates you."

Pause.

"Heh. If she's anything like her mother, she'll tell you she hates you. At length."

"Keye, yeah. Keye Tomlinson. I, uh...you think so?"
He tilts his head and takes a sip of the water at last.
"What should I do?"

"Call her."

Shrug.

"Tell her you're sorry you upset her and you still want to be friends. It can't hurt, can it?"

He can handle friendships. But don't ever, ever, ever ask him for romantic advice.

Well, that was obvious.

"I guess not. I...I guess I'll try that."

"Good luck."

Grin.

"So, satisfied that I'm not a freak?"

"Um."
Suddenly, he grins, wide and bright.
"I think so."

"Good. I'd hate for you to 'fuck me up.'"

He takes a large drink of milk.

"So, tell me about yourself."