Call Me Old-Fashioned

The Warlord was enjoying the laughter and and general bubble of movement from the Armada wolves as they celebrated the adulthood of his youngest litter. The Warlord sipped from his alcoholic beverage, and leaned lightly against his lady as the rest of the pack mingled.

He noticed the blue form of Art making his way towards him, and raised his glass to Art. “Godson!” he said warmly in greeting. “I’m glad you're enjoying yourself, and of course you can. What's up, Artorias?” he asked, glancing about themselves to ensure there was no one else in airshot. Just to ensure the ‘private’ that Artorias requested. He singled to his bear, who settled into place before them, who would happily and cheerfully distract anyone who sought them out.

"Sirius"