For much of the winter, a somber overcast shrouded the atmosphere in its misery. Today, however, the skies were absent of any cloud, for the sun's dazzling rays shone down upon the tribe's forest territory. Others may have seen the fair weather as a pleasant turn of events, though Leroy saw it as a metaphor - a perfect analogy.

The murky vapour that which concealed the sky for much of the winter resembled the adversity endured by Tanglewood. The Pitt's vile kidnappings and tortures, as well as the disappearances and even deaths of many a Tangler (including him) were fine examples of the shit they had to put up with. Hell, even recently, there was Kydobi refusing to adhere to the group's border rules, and swearing to get his vengeance. But, all of that wasn't of any concern anymore. Nay, the skies had cleared up, and so had their luck. Jervis was getting killed, the whole of Tanglewood celebrated a pretty festive Christmas, and a plethora of old faces rejoined the daily routine. And, for someone whose values are based on nostalgia and memories, seeing old faces once again struck a deeper chord than anything else, really.

Kaitou was not a person he'd missed, and frankly, he wanted the kid gone again. Vathmos, he somewhat missed. She never truly interacted with the male, and as such her act of desertion barely affected him on an emotional scale. But Aurum liked the hyena, and seeing someone as pure as him pining for her made him feel glum as well. Moth, he enjoyed the company of. A valued member of the medical team, she was, and lacking her left an open wound in the tribe's ranks.

Though, the deficiency of Sam stung Leroy worse than any of the aforementioned names. Playing favourites, especially whilst in his particular position of power, wasn't entirely correct moral-wise - but, he didn't care for what was right and what was wrong. The doecat's omission from the territory tore the general a new one, chiefly due to how he expected her to be present upon his return in late November.

She wasn't present, though.

She was gone.

Though, now... she was back.

And thus, the sun beamed today, basking the cur's soot-gray coat in its blinding light. Was it still cold? Fucking right it was, and Leroy had to resort to the confines of the tavern's walls in order to preserve body heat. The sun was out, though, and that's what mattered the most.

Though Sam had strolled into his line of sight, her verbal introduction still caused him to nearly jump out of his own skin. His attention hadn't been fixated on the doorway, after all - rather, he was much more focused on the drink before him: good ol' fashioned Tanglewoodian moonshine. The stuff practically assaulted his tastebuds with its foulness, though the hound was in too good a mood to give a hoot. It was just him, his elation, and his drink.

And, as of now, Sam.

"I'd say I's equally scared," he huffs, settling into the relaxed position in which he sat before. For the first time in... well, a long-ass time, the canine allows his eyes to comb over Sam's form. Not much has changed about the doecat, except for the fact that she looked as fit as a broken fiddle, and sounded twice as worse. Apart from that, she was still the same pretty quadruped as before; on the outside, that is. He hadn't the slightest clue as to how badly her mentality was perturbed since the last time the two saw one another.

An abundant, drawn-out sigh escapes his maw. What would likely occur next was a prolonged, heartwarming conversation chock-full of 'How have you been?'s, and perchance a handful of 'I missed you so much's. Not that such an interaction gnawed at Leroy in any way, but the general found himself partaking in them every other day as of late, what with the recent influx of re-joiners. He simply yearned for a break for once, that is all.

The wolfhound flashes the femme a smile, one that sang of glee, but repentance as well. Having Sam back meant the world to him, it really did. By the time of his passing, she existed as one of his top three most trusted confidants. Yet, he felt shame, shame for being the root cause of a number of her tribulations. If only he'd been more vigilant, she wouldn't have been hauled off to the Pitt to be tortured and chained up. If only he'd been kinder to her, perhaps taking her side when Beck burnt her cigarette stash rather than maintaining a neutral stance, the two could have had a stronger relationship before. If only he'd told her to stay in the tribe's company before he ultimately died, she would have listened, and not suffer from her latest batch of injuries. If only he'd done a lot of things he should've, things today could've been better.

"Gotta say," the cur says softly, his eyes haphazardly returning to his drink, "I've seen some shit. Shit that fucked me up. Shit that fucked me up bad." His line of vision shifts yet again unto the doecat's figure, this time beneath a gaze somber in tone. "But nothin'," he says, "nothin' makes me happier than seein' ya back."

There it was. The customary query that his ears had reluctantly become so acquainted with ever since his reemergence into tribal society. "What happened?" seemed to be the most common question, though every now and then he'd be hit with the "why are you back?". Each occurrence in which he faced the questions, the general typically scoffed, grunted something stupid such as "magic, that's how" in exasperated response, and then continued along his way. He acknowledges that it is only natural for one to feel curiosity when meeting someone who's supposed to be dead, but the past was in the past, and he wished to keep it that way. And besides - not a lot of people wanted to hear the truth. Aurum had already declared his distaste for the path that the canine surreptitiously walked. And if Aurum didn't want to hear it, nobody did.

Sam was a friend, though. Closer than most of the dipsticks that he passed by on a day-to-day basis. If she truly wished to hear what was what, then by all means, he'd oblige. Clearing his throat awkwardly, and restlessly shifting to and fro upon his haunches, the male readies himself to speak. "I'm..." he initiates, ere mollifying his voice due to a lack of obvious words. There did not exist an uncomplicated way to say the following words. Best to just say it quickly and get it over with. "I'm- I'm still dead," he stammers abruptly, "but, what I'm doin' right here - right now - is possessin'." His chocolate hues fall on the smaller quadruped's figure, grudgingly examining for traces of disapproval. Sam was hardcore, she wouldn't judge him too harshly for this, would she? "This fella that I'm controllin'... found him in The Big Apple. He's a younger siblin' actually. His name's Christian. Forcin' someone to be a personal vessel wasn't my original plan, but- but I couldn't leave ya. I couldn't leave Tanglewood."

He falls silent for a moment, glancing solemnly towards the table that fronted him. Without a moment's notice, though, his mood seems to alleviate, as signified by a sudden smirk. "I'll tell ya what though," he says, humour clawing away at the bottom of his throat whilst he spoke, "Imma disagree with what ya said about me lookin' pretty - nah, I'm fuckin' sexy as FUCK. I mean, look at me, I'm a beaut! I got muscles that'll leave ya rattled for days 'n everythin' of that sort."

Regardless of her stance on his appearance, Sam simply had to agree with him on this one.