If Ophelia wasn’t used to lodging in a set location for long, then consider Leroy the polar opposite. The mongrel’s actions, along with his personality, gave him a fast pass through the line of society, planting him in front of the line for a ride called total control. On that very ride, lasting for about the majority of his life, he had gotten what he wanted when he wanted. Nobody liked him, but they couldn’t say that, as he had eyes and ears everywhere. Eventually, someone came along and believed Leroy’s turn was long over, remarkably so that the stranger completely demolished the ride, and almost the rider with it. That could of been the end of the mutt right then and there, he sure thought it was, yet the interloper who ended Leroy’s revelry was merciful, and merely cast him away from all he had known.

That’s how his sorry ass ended up here in Tanglewood, alongside the alligators and numerous other lifeless saps who called this place home. In all honesty, the living conditions here defied the wolfhound’s expectations. Once you got past the gut-wrenching stench added to the fear of stepping on a deadly trap, living in a swamp was fine. Of course, while living like a king, he had never foresaw himself existing in a worn down house, which was definitely a fixer-upper, as a part of a clan. Merely bunking in Tanglewood for about a week was enough to shift his goals in life from having power over all else to just comfortably living life.

It was at this moment he made the choice to visit the library. There were parts of the territory still left unexplored by him, including this building in the middle of town. Barring that, there was the crater, the shore, the farm; damn, he did need to explore his new turf a bit more.

Why the library instead of anywhere else? Though a place with books appeared to be boring compared to an impact crater, he was told that the lower floor of the library also served as a hangout area as well. And that’s all he wanted to do now. He wanted to hang. Out.

A few strides past the entrance of the building and Leroy was quick to spot a sleeping feline, one with wings perched on her shoulders no less. He wasn’t the noblest of sorts, but he understood how important rest was to some people. A klutz himself, he used his better judgement to see that it would be most appropriate if he left immediately - after accidentally forcing his paw into the leg of a wooden chair, causing the furniture to loudly convulse, though the chair’s racket was nowhere near the level of his groans, followed by some pain-fuelled naughty words.

If he happened to not be squirming in discomfort, perhaps he would’ve paid attention to the audible flap of wings, for when the feline’s face had come into view, the foul canine jumped once more, though not as severely this time around. Though a force to be reckoned with being disturbed while inflamed, a new sensation trickled throughout his frame as the she softly chafed his side: solace. Her action was in the means of comforting him during his little outbreak. It made him strangely warm, so much so he nearly disliked the feeling. Here he was, what used to be an undesirable individual known for lacking emotion, being consoled after hurting his paw. If his past self could be here, he’d tear his present self a new esophagus.

"T-thanks". He was definitely acting out of sorts. Never had he ever thanked someone for tending to his “wounds”; usually, he wouldn’t notify anyone if he had gotten hurt in any way. He was tough, there was no room for assistance. Tail hanging low, he’d sigh, following it with an apology. ”Sorry fo’ wakin’ ya”, he’d groan, ”I shouldn’ta come here.”.

He hadn’t seen her face around before, a reason why he had to do something, and fast. If he remained submissive, that’s all she’d see him as, instead of the hard-nosed brute that he consciously was. 

"You sure like ta’ talk, dont’cha?" he’d inquire, tone striking as callous, though the comment was merely an astute statement.

So much was spoken in the past minute or so that he found it quite difficult to comprehend what was said. Initially, she solemnly addressed how he shouldn’t be the one to apologize, and that, in fact, she should have said sorry herself. Well, it was true that she shouldn’t have drifted off in a public space, it was his fault for making noise in a library. Next, almost devoid of emotion, it seemed, the winged feline expressed how remorseful she was about not having healing powers of any capacity, before offering to fan his “wound” with her wings. It was inelegant enough that they were practically touching each other right now, such he did not need a total stranger to wildly flap her body parts in an effort to aid him.

”Ya don’t need to do anything to me” Leroy would coquet, his usual devilish self replenishing to what it was before. ”Since we’re already so close t’getha’, d’ya mind tellin’ me your name, honey?”