Only lovers left alive

She wasn't wrong, uncertainty shifting to mirth in Dread's gaze. A little smile cracking his dark lips, flash of pale teeth beneath. "Wild that they're getting to be old enough already." His tone slips for a moment, far away. Thinking about his nieces and nephews back in the Armada, and how they'd be getting to raid soon too. Would they be among the next crop to come knocking on their door, when the time came? Stopping that train of thought in its tracks, Dread was suddenly rather glad they'd be heading out soon.

"We're best off staying on neutral terms with as many of the well connected packs as we can," Dread has more intimate a knowledge of the empire than most, though some things have changed. It's still the freshest information at their disposal, and it seemed their strength had yet to slip. "Maybe we can go looking at some of the smaller packs while we wait for Scald." A light suggestion. Advice from a boy who was trained as a diplomat. Something like that.

"speech"