braying jackass

His youngest son, Tyrian, was running around the festival grounds somewhere, but Valentine had seen neither hide nor hair of him. Which was a shame, really, because they had a similar sense of humor and Valentine was certain the youth would get a kick out of his commentary. Alas, it seemed he would have to poke fun at the contestants all by himself.  He'd make due, of course, and have himself an entertaining little party for one if necessary.

Or maybe not. Another youth approached, one he'd met before. Now, where had he met her...ah yes, that firefly festival...thing. She was one of Rhyme's. Valentine wracked his brain trying to remember if he'd caught her name. He didn't think he had. Well, that didn't matter too much, did it? If he got the impression he should know her name he could always fake a frail elderly wolf moment, maybe shake a little for good measure, and that would no doubt smooth over this faux pas.

Valentine grunted amusedly, then said, "There haven't been nearly enough brawls for my liking, but it's alright as far as tame gatherings go." He shrugged, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in a small tart smile. "That doesn't quite answer your question, though, does it? Let's see...if I had to choose between staying home and doing nothing or coming here...I'd come here. So I must be enjoying it well enough."