Plexus Kingsford knows the whispers from others before he came to the Coalition. They mostly ceased once he joined, no longer the lone doctor. His own murmurs in his head quieted, only rearing their ugly tones when things are stressful. Not that anyone knew about them, but still.

The large forest cat stretched, the paint on his face dried and tacky, as he gingerly took his mask off and started on cleaning it. The face paint sometimes tried to stain or stuck to the leather mask. The Guru lightly hummed as he very carefully cleaned the leather and treated it. He thinks, to himself in a heartbeat of contentment, that he is happy and doesn't regret joining the group. A few friends, actually able to speak sometimes, and not like he's freezing from loneliness.

Lex is living instead of surviving.

Plexus started with a jolt at Abzu's voice, then relaxed almost immediately with a scratchy new, "Yes." He gave a slow blink at the taller female and patting the ground to signify setting down if she wished, "How...it goes?"

While he was typically uncomfortable showing his face, he'd come a long way with the animals of the Coalition. His hat was somewhere in the den and was only wearing his scarf as he loafed lazily, hoping none of his nerves still had paint on them to cause tremors or twitching.

Plexus. Their newest Guru. Romulus entrusted the other carefully with their position and held no qualms about them. After all, things were beginning to pick up. The Coalition of the Condemned needed someone to handle the herbalist's daily tasks and take a load off his back. Thankfully, in the time being, his mother's knowledge guided him in being a temporary Guru. Nevertheless, the leader was glad they had someone to take up the position of Guru and lead the group into a better position than they were before.

At the soft words of two familiars, the lion momentarily paused in his walk. His violet gaze shifted to them nearby. He contemplated ignoring their distant mumbles and instead heading to his quarters to sink his head into a book, but ultimately decided against it. Socialization. Fun. (That's sarcasm.) It was required as a leader though. Plus it was his sister and a fellow high position! How bad could it be? Hopefully, if only, Abzu didn't push him around too much during the conversation.

Paws continued forward and landed before them. "The paint adds character. Why not leave it?" he questioned lightly. Romulus gestured down towards the leather as Plexus scrubbed. The warpaint upon the sturdy, dark mask signified the guru's dedication in his mind, but perhaps they thought otherwise. Nevertheless, the lion wouldn't impose on their cleanliness. There was no need.

Following his question and the other's pat on the ground, he settled down and offered a glance over towards his sister. For a moment, he peered up at her crown, only to look back down. "You look intriguing today," came his genuine comment. Romulus wasn't sure what else to say in greeting. Since the others started the conversation, he left it to them to continue on.

The Norwegian forest hummed lightly, thinking about how to respond before shrugging, "Habit." Plexus pawed at his face, then the mask before conceding that he probably could stand to not obsessively clean it, "Consider leaving the paint. Hard to clean so often."

He felt a muscle jump in his paw, but he ignored it in favor of tucking his paws further under his chest. He rarely seen the two siblings, but he guessed things have calmed. Shifting, he positioned himself to face both of his visitors and tentatively nosed the mask beside him instead of worrying on last little marks of dried paint.

'I could stand to worry less about the mask', he reasoned to himself. It was given to him by someone who was unsettled by his...appearance, so he technically didn't need to care for it as much as he did, but small steps. He could do small steps.

Plexus looked down at his mask, and thought for a long second, "Maybe for battle only." A sly smirk tugged at his muzzle at the thought before he dropped it for a kind smile at Romulus and the other two with him, "Better to be used to no mask around...friends?" His voice was starting to give a bit, so the Norwegian forest lightly hummed as he thought about how to go about the process. A war mask did sound like an amazing idea, but on the battle field only. As much as the cat wanted to hide, he knew it wouldn't help his issues. It'd enable them.

While he toyed with the idea of the mask in paint, Plexus vaguely recogonized the slight tingle in his throat. His were words scratchy as he talked more than he usually did in a day. It felt oddly nice to feel his vocal cords twinge and pull as he talked. He normally avoided talking, or only said a pawful of words (nevermind he said 3 pawfuls of words so far but still, he commended himself on progress). Mentally patting his own back, he hoped his voice wouldn't give out completely before the conversations ended.