Bitter contempt rattled his bones as a reaction to Red’s arrival. The vague creature brought with him caustic presentiments, worsening the ordeal’s current environment. If it weren’t for his on-the-spot diagnosis, which subdued all disdain felt by the hound, there was a good chance that Leroy would have cracked.

Internal bleeding.

Amalgams of disbelief and malaise bombarded his very soul like artillery fire. The blood pumping through his veins seemingly ceased operation, rendering him anemic. His train of thought suffered a total engine failure as he struggled to comprehend the facts before him. Internal bleeding? What had caused it? How long ago had Arrow gotten sick, and why had she refrained from making mention of her condition to anybody?

The canine flinched as his helpless captain upchucks another shipment of stomach goo, making notice of the blood present in the expunged bodily fluids. He yearns to place a paw on her shoulder to comfort not only her, but himself as well. He desisted from doing so, however; if the presence of Selby - who brought medicinal herbs - couldn’t grant even the slightest sense of relief, then nothing would.

Arrow spoke, Selby spoke, Wormwood spoke - it was all a blur. Due to a lack of any forewarning, there wasn’t any time to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. His maw automatically went agape, preparing itself to offer a few soothing utterances, though he halted his breath. The sickened feline had something else to say.

She first turned to Selby. Leroy sharply inhaled, eyes widening whilst Arrow conveyed a final message of sorts. "Oh my - no..." he murmurs. Breathing became a trying task for the the male. His lungs’ respiration pattern went choppy, solely consisting of wheezes and gasps from there on in, with low whines intermittently escaping his throat. Leroy’s perception of time must have gone wonky as well, as the amount of time it took for Arrow’s glance to shift into him felt like millennia. And she spoke.

The corners of his eye sockets ran wet with soppy moisture. He had not experienced sentiments such as these in nearly a year. He had not shed a tear inside Tanglewood’s boggy borders up to this point. Her green hues tantalized the guardsman with images of the jukebox-related memory that she recited, the memory in particular which he had totally forgotten about until now. That was how many months ago? Six? Man, she had been with him for a really long while, hadn’t she. The more he dwelled on the fact, the more it pained him to see her like this, in such a state.

Her eyes fell shut.

"Whaddya mean bedtime?" the mongrel exclaims, growing more restless by the moment, "C'mon!".

No response. Gone.

He had to get away. She wouldn’t have wanted him to see her like that.

In a similar fashion to Samantha, Leroy takes his leave. Stumbling over his own trembling limbs, he makes for his home.