Cold North Winds

He was running late. Late, late, late. That was fine, no one should notice. In Dread’s mind, he was going to be able to be able to slip in unnoticed. He’s trying to, at least. He catches the Warlord’s call as he’s trying to scrub the pirate smell out of his coat. Trying to cover his tracks and where he’s been. It’s likely right as his father is about to start to speak that Dread slips in, at the very back. Trying not to disrupt everything around him, still damp from his bath, sitting at the back and settling carefully on his haunches. Not technically late, but way too close to be comfortable.