jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse [raid meeting]

Of course the promise of violence drew Valentine in. He had helped Tyrian brainstorm the system for choosing who stayed and who went during a raid so he wasn't naive enough to think that he, a delightfully older individual, deserved to go, and while that prickled, he decided he wouldn't argue. Staying behind and guarding the borders and kiddos was important too. Just a lot less fun. And besides, if anyone wished to take advantage of the pack while the raiders were gone, he wouldn't be bound by the same rules that made sure the raiders played nicely. If he felt like it he could go all out in defense which was, in his opinion, a decent consolation prize.

Valentine settled in sphinx-like somewhere behind Jupiter and crossed his front paws. He was the picture of repose; while the prospect of fighting was exciting he saw no reason to be overly demonstrative. Instead he coolly looked over the wolves gathered, noting them, unbeknownst to him, in a similar manner as Valkyrie. It pleased him to see how many of them were his descendants. Strong, capable, excited for the fight ahead. It warmed his crabby old heart.