Valoran sighs. He listens in as best as he can, but he's never been the tactician. He's the one who gets sent in to "end the problem". Back when he was younger, before he met his past lover, Valoran was called the "Right Hand of the Reaper" as he was insanely violent and efficient in his dealings. He was still like that, those who were around at that time could still see the insanity and lust for blood in his eyes. Some even swore his son would be like him, as he personally trained Vance to take care of himself should Valoran fall.

He found his mind drifting to the dark memories of the past, as the others kept talking. He thought of the man he'd lost, and how much he truly missed him. He had stopped looking for love again, fearful that he wouldn't be able to protect them. And so he held his son closest to his heart, not wanting to get him put in danger.

The knock at the door jolts him from his thoughts. Excusing himself he heads over to it and opens it, letting himself out and closing it behind him. As the one in charge of most of the muscle, Valoran used this little distraction to do something rather than listen to strategy meetings. "Finished your job?" He looked the other man over, quickly, his stance firm and solid. He tried to keep down the rather intimidating aura he always seemed to exude, but it only made it worse.