09-18-2018, 09:47 AM
Solely hearkening an exclamation in response was enough to lighten him up a bit, and laying his eyes upon her mug was on a whole other level. It was the same warmth he experienced from when they had to collaberate on that bonfire, not attained by the fire itself, but from a fervour that overhauled his mind when being in proximity to this dame. This certain enthusiasm the mutt was submitted to had a different effect than both friendly and romantic attraction. It was like nostalgia, though he could never recall memories of a friendship before. Another thought it tugged at was the suggestion that he’d met her in another lifetime, another existence - yet that countered his superstitions surrounding reincarnation and whatnot. Or, possibly he found his way to some whiskey again and didn’t remember so, allowing emotions he didn’t even know he had flow through his veins. Oh, what was he thinking? You’re Leroy Starkweather, bluntest of the emotionless, you’re supposed to wear that as a badge for Christ’s sake.
The blue optics that were Ophelia’s own seemed to snap him out of it. Good. Fumes emanating from whatever the hell she was cooking entered his nostrils, and it smelled good. It had been such a long time following when he had last had a warm, tender meal. Surviving on raw meat, though the natural diet of his species, was a new feat for him, and due to a lack of cooking knowledge, that’s the best it got.
When she asked, nay, demanded him to come in, the guardsman happily obliged. Who could say no to the offer of even more warmth, especially when it’s getting to the time of year when the weather turns to shit and goes ape. To Ophelia’s offer of chow, though, Leroy had a different reaction. "Don’ trouble yourself, I’d eat the whole thing," he’d disclose, acknowledging the bird’s size, despite craving a nice meal himself at this present time. This was her place, her own little haven of knowledge and order, he could fetch himself a snack back at his behind-the-times hut. ”Water would be grand, though”.
This place’s interior was... eugh. That’s not saying that it is bad, god no, the house had a brilliant touch to it - for someone else’s taste. Maybe it was how balanced everything was? It was probably that, nodding to the fact that Leroy preferred freedom, spontaneity, and liberty over order, equilibrium, and stability, making for a dramatic difference in taste between the two mammals.
He’d remain standing until directed otherwise. Disregarding his preferences in reference to the building, Leroy still had respect for its owner, and would not slump down into a tired mass of fur unless Ophelia gave the call.
”Really happy ta see you’re holding up fine, with your injuries and all. You’re fine, right?”. It was best to start out with light conversation before delving deep with what he wanted to say. Being too straightforward was a trait of his, one that needed tweaking.
The blue optics that were Ophelia’s own seemed to snap him out of it. Good. Fumes emanating from whatever the hell she was cooking entered his nostrils, and it smelled good. It had been such a long time following when he had last had a warm, tender meal. Surviving on raw meat, though the natural diet of his species, was a new feat for him, and due to a lack of cooking knowledge, that’s the best it got.
When she asked, nay, demanded him to come in, the guardsman happily obliged. Who could say no to the offer of even more warmth, especially when it’s getting to the time of year when the weather turns to shit and goes ape. To Ophelia’s offer of chow, though, Leroy had a different reaction. "Don’ trouble yourself, I’d eat the whole thing," he’d disclose, acknowledging the bird’s size, despite craving a nice meal himself at this present time. This was her place, her own little haven of knowledge and order, he could fetch himself a snack back at his behind-the-times hut. ”Water would be grand, though”.
This place’s interior was... eugh. That’s not saying that it is bad, god no, the house had a brilliant touch to it - for someone else’s taste. Maybe it was how balanced everything was? It was probably that, nodding to the fact that Leroy preferred freedom, spontaneity, and liberty over order, equilibrium, and stability, making for a dramatic difference in taste between the two mammals.
He’d remain standing until directed otherwise. Disregarding his preferences in reference to the building, Leroy still had respect for its owner, and would not slump down into a tired mass of fur unless Ophelia gave the call.
”Really happy ta see you’re holding up fine, with your injuries and all. You’re fine, right?”. It was best to start out with light conversation before delving deep with what he wanted to say. Being too straightforward was a trait of his, one that needed tweaking.