07-29-2019, 05:44 PM
Leroy’s oculars widened at the door slowly creaking ajar, his brows tensing out of concern as the hut’s inhabitant hastily scurried away in a rat-like fashion. He didn’t necessarily enjoy how she retreated as soon as allowing him entry. For a full second’s duration, the mongrel no longer yearned to venture forth into Sam’s home. Mayhaps, the best route from here would be to just drop the cigarette parcel and turn tail. The doecat and him weren’t exactly on speaking level, anyways. His presence would only disturb her to an even greater degree, which totally contradicted his intentions; the canine didn’t aim to amplify the newly-appointed guardsman’s stress levels with this little stopover. Rather, he desired only the opposite.
Yellowed teeth gripping upon his thin tongue, a spur-of-the-moment choice was made.
His neck craned through the hatchway’s opening. The room was inky black, with only the faintest outlines of certain objects accessible to his eyesight. "Where y’at, Sam?" Leroy called softly while stepping into the dark, enclosed space. Reaching out with a rear leg, the hound hooked his paw around the agape door and pulled forward. It shut behind him, quietly colliding with the frame. Along with the secured drapes, the closed door prevented almost all outside light from entering - making the room darker than it was before. Sighing abjectly, he cleared his phlegmy throat before speaking once more. "I ain't gonna do nothin' to ya," he started solemnly, unaware of his target’s true location, "just wanna talk. That's all."
"I get ya hate me, but I don't get why. If ya could help me understand, we could fix this bad blood between us. It'd make the place a whole lot less stressful for you an' I."
Leroy would unequip his haversack, dropping it in front of him. It was difficult to see exactly what he was doing in the dark, yet after some mild fumbling and stumbling, the cigarette pack fell loose out of the bag. "If ya could somehow turn on the lights, this'd be a lot more smooth. We- you could even puff on these for the time bein' ta make things easier."
Yellowed teeth gripping upon his thin tongue, a spur-of-the-moment choice was made.
His neck craned through the hatchway’s opening. The room was inky black, with only the faintest outlines of certain objects accessible to his eyesight. "Where y’at, Sam?" Leroy called softly while stepping into the dark, enclosed space. Reaching out with a rear leg, the hound hooked his paw around the agape door and pulled forward. It shut behind him, quietly colliding with the frame. Along with the secured drapes, the closed door prevented almost all outside light from entering - making the room darker than it was before. Sighing abjectly, he cleared his phlegmy throat before speaking once more. "I ain't gonna do nothin' to ya," he started solemnly, unaware of his target’s true location, "just wanna talk. That's all."
"I get ya hate me, but I don't get why. If ya could help me understand, we could fix this bad blood between us. It'd make the place a whole lot less stressful for you an' I."
Leroy would unequip his haversack, dropping it in front of him. It was difficult to see exactly what he was doing in the dark, yet after some mild fumbling and stumbling, the cigarette pack fell loose out of the bag. "If ya could somehow turn on the lights, this'd be a lot more smooth. We- you could even puff on these for the time bein' ta make things easier."