Leroy presumed that Malphas’ specific ruling on food was solely whimsical; it wouldn’t be great if people snapped their caps and busted his chops two weeks consecutively. While Ophelia transported all the wood towards the site of the inferno, bless her soul, he was charged with fashioning together the festivity side of things. The mutt understood that his role was based upon the injury he sustained, no matter how delicate Ophelia was about it. It bothered him none. In fact, he had much preferred constructing food tables, fputting out blankets, setting up chairs, and placing decorations, despite it giving him the appearance of pushover.

The blankets were old and singed, and some of the chairs must’ve been munched on by a termite or three, but as long as people got buzzed from the alcohol present, it’d be fine. You don’t have a very large selection in these parts. Games like spin the bottle were initially thought of, though that would be too much. This was a social event, others were to choose to do what they pleased, whether it was get drunk, mingle, tell stories, or whatever.

Leroy was quite content that Ophelia was his partner in all this. They understood one another, regardless of differences the two had in personality and ambition. He was fond of her company, as the feline was one of the few not quick to put him down as a buffoon, which was uncommon in Tanglewood, where negative personalities were prospered with positive ones shunned. That’s not to say Leroy wasn’t negative himself, of course, it was just nice to experience something different.

His ears rose as the words of Ophelia arrived, rotating his noggin to face his good acquaintance. A devilish grin sprouted from his crop as he was given the offer of starting the flame.  "I’m pretty ready, I’d say," he hummed before acquiring the stones. It took a few tries, but in no time some sparks erupted onto the heap of branches, giving forth the animated warmth that was flame.

”Thanks,” Leroy praised rarely, ”Thanks for doin’ all the work while I put up crisps and beer.”

Sore shoulders rose in a convivial shrug as Ophelia reassured him with the nectarous words of hers. She encouraged that piecing together furniture alongside decorations was at just as much value of her duties, if not worth more. And maybe she was right. The mutt was more of a pessimist than anything else, though through affiliation with the feline, he was becoming to feel more whole as a being. That’s what he liked about the little friendship he had with her.

Soon, other faces came into existence, the first being Morgan. The pooch’s deeds were slowly but surely molding Tanglewood into a much more liveable dwelling. The shore and junkyard definitely needed that doing-away-with, whereas the lumber work betokened that expansion to the territory wasn’t too unlikely in the future. Leroy liked it. His leadership forged a new era of history for the group, and it also gave people actual work to do with the cleanups, unlike before. When the fluffy tail-wagger mentioned his injury, embarrassment grew up in that throat of his. Only a fool like himself had the potential to get wounded by a gator that easily.  "’S been well," the rough tone he possessed notified, ”Jus’ gotta wait five more weeks, an’ I can walk like th’ rest of yas”. Five more weeks. Ugh.

For the rest of the chitchat, he let Ophelia do the speaking. It was an activity she certainly loved to do, judging by the sheer amount of sentences she could fit into thirty seconds. The array of colour their creation had to offer absorbed him for the time being, its warmth bidding a fervency of comfort that couldn’t be found in the arid puff that was the boiling summer. The mongrel remained in this state until his attention was caught by Ophelia, who required him in an inquiry about s’mores.

”Ahhh-I’m sure I left out some ‘mallows, chocolate n’ crackers ‘round here somewhere, probably on that table with all th’ other foods. Th’ problem is I didn’t make ‘em. Morgan, you wanna help him with that?”, he’d ask, seeing it as an activity for those two to do together. Unless the pup didn’t know how to (which would be blasphemous), it would be a fun, innocent way for him to interact with his Vigenere.