PINK MOTEL + CROW

[toboggan]

The abrupt influx of joiners.

Arrow's passing.

Poetking's murder of another tribemate, and subsequent departure.

Seeing Beck and Sam shackled up and bloodied beyond repair.

The diagnosis.

Leroy required someone to talk to, someone to vent to. Someone who would listen to every deranged word, and console him whilst he broke down thereafter. Someone who wouldn't judge his lamenting, his whining. Someone who wouldn't mind giving him a hug. Someone who would make him feel better in the wake of all the hell that ruptured Tanglewood's once-steady stance.

In a tribe filled to its brim with those who looked down on him and those who didn't take him seriously, finding this someone should have been an arduous obstacle.

But it was obvious.

There was already someone in Tanglewood who would listen to every deranged word, and console him whilst he broke down thereafter. Someone who wouldn't judge his lamenting and whining. Someone who MOST CERTAINLY wouldn't mind giving him a hug.

Leroy had turned down the someone in question on a multitude of varying occasions in the past. Regrettably so. He strongly hoped that the callousness he displayed in the past was forgotten, and that the bullying was forgiven.

His throat tightens as he approaches the doorstep.

"Crow."

"I'd like to come in."

[Crow Roux]

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Leroy's voice was the last thing the feline expected to hear calling for him outside of his own door, so he sat bewildered for a brief moment with his paw dangled nonchalantly over the pages of his book as if he was caught in the act of turning them. He would listen again more intently this time, then started at the realization that he should perhaps answer the hound's request instead of staring off into space like a bimbo. Crow closed his book with force and dragged himself to his stiff paws and called, "It's unlocked," as he set about to kick a few trinkets beneath his bookshelf to give his floor the illusion that it had been kept in order.

Though Crow's voice had been stony, his furrowed brows read otherwise. Leroy never sought him out, so what possibly could be wrong?

[toboggan]

The fleetness of Crow's response alleviated the male. Hearing the feline's mellowed voice lessened the corrosive sensation of worry that plagued his mentality. Already, he was feeling relieved. Already, Crow's presence effected him for the better.

All that sat between the proxy and the man he yearned to see was a timbered door.

And it was unlocked.

Without a moment of hesitation, Leroy gently butts the door with his noggin, budging it open to reveal the building's interior - and its inhabitant. Having not seen the recesses of this particular home before, the hound's golden eyes took a few seconds to probe the finer details. It seemed rather neat, lacking any filth or waste to speak of. The only notable novelty in view was a book, which lay dormant near the general's person. Crow himself appeared quite perturbed, his emerald hues giving off an aura of worriment. The figure of his hadn't changed much since it had last crossed his path - by the looks of it, the raid didn't scar him up too bad.

He shakes his gaze away from the leader's physical form, instead fixating his monotonous expression on the feline's face. Locking eyes, he nods to signify recognition, and steps inside. The last time he stood within another's living space took place nearly a year ago. Almost twelve whole months. And, damn, had Leroy forgotten how it felt. It was as if he'd consumed a brew of appreciation and humility, topped with a creamy layer of bliss, and now circulated in his system.

A few paces past the doorway, one of the cur's rear legs extends to kick the door closed; it misses the first time, as Leroy refused to remove his focus from Tanglewood's leader. As the doorway reseals, Leroy's gaunt belly sinks to the floor as the male places himself in a laying position. Always, his height surpassed the general's. Always, he was bigger, both in size and power. Right now, however, he wished to be level. One cannot expect to be mature with another while towering over them like a goddamn skyscraper.

"Well, here I am," he remarks to himself with a faint chuckle. The expression upon his face was deficient of humour and ill intent. For once in his life, he was about to be somber with the elder Roux. "This must be really weird for ya, Crow - me not insultin' ya on the spot 'n all. But hear me out."

The forepaws resting before his chest began to shift restlessly. Why was this so hard? "Err- there's been some... things... an' they been botherin' me..." A knot formulates within his throat, making the canine's word-flow choppy and uneven.

"Fuck it. Crow, you're th' only one who'll take me seriously for this type of shit. A lotta shit's been on my mind, y'know. Same shit that's been buggin' everyone. Arrow's gone. I had t' chop off Beck's fuckin' paws. And now, I'm gonna fuckin' die soon. An' it's all been too much for me, an' it's really pissin' me off, an' I don't know how t' deal with it. I need ya t' help me."

[Crow Roux]

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As much as Crow wanted to crack a joke as Leroy fumbled with the door, he kept his lips sealed, deciding that now of all times would not be the best for a nonchalant quip at the hound's inability to break eye contact. Was he staring? Am I staring? He felt hot embarrassment rise in his cheeks, and he quickly dropped his own gaze to the ground just beneath the hound's feet.

The feline was caught off guard when Leroy plopped on the floor in front of him, and he expected to be met with a snarky remark when the dog opened his mouth to speak, but instead his voice was bleak, and Crow thought he almost sounded sad as he acknowledged the peculiarity of the whole situation and then proceeded to essentially spill his guts. The tabby's suspicions proved to be true, and there truly was something wrong. Crow lowered himself onto his haunches to sit, keeping a respectable distance for he was unsure of how to handle this. Leroy had never opened up to him in such a way before, and quite frankly it was strange.

"What do you want me to do..?"

[toboggan]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 55%; font-family: timesnewroman; text-align: justify;"]Up until this point, the Proxy hadn't exactly been a firm believer in the concept of déjà vu. He'd never truly experienced it firsthand, therefore it did not exist. Realistically, nobody could possess the capacity to peer into the future (barring those clairvoyance types), so to suggest that one could see events that'd already happened was pure, unsullied hogwash.

Crow's single-sentence response played on repeat within the hound's mind, reverberating off the hypothetical boundaries that existed inside his head. "What do you want me to do?". The phrase introduced a curious sensation to his system, a mixture comprised of comfort - attained from the feline's open-mindedness, when the option of mockery lay before him - as well as a strange little thing called déjà vu. Where he'd heard those words before, it was hard to discern. But at the moment they reached the wolfhound's folded ears, the male, who had become quite cold in the recent weeks, he was filled to the brim with such nostalgic warmth, a mediocre grin grew along the outline of his maw.

After a brief period of time that consisted of a mere matter of moments, Leroy's smile abated. Sullen amber bulbs fell upon Crow's frame - specifically, the General's discombobulated facial expression, and his glassy, jade eyes.

Oh, right. What could he do to help.

"I don't wanna ask ya nothin' too much, Crow, so lemme know if I am," he began, his haunches shifting restlessly whilst he spoke. "I guess... I guess I don't wanna spend my last few days all on my lonesome, ya know? And since ya always like- and since you've always been so kind t' me, I figured that ya wouldn't mind me askin' if I could... relocate myself."

He continues before the alabaster male has any chance to cut in. "I mean- I wanna move in. And, I know this had no buildup, and this could be troublesome for Selby, so I completely understand if ya say no."

"I just need someone ta lean on."

[Crow Roux]

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His eyes would widen at Leroy's outrageous suggestion, then his expression quickly grew cold and guarded as he took in the hound's words. Out of everyone he could have gone to, he chose the mousy general. That was when his brain began to spit awful things at him. Leroy knew, didn't he? He's takin' advantage of you. Thinks you'll say yes just 'cause you like him, huh? No. Crow knew him better than that. So he inhaled roughly and gestured with his head to the space behind him. "You- you can stay the night if you wanna..." he muttered as he dropped his gaze again. "D-do you want tea or a hug or somethin'?"

[toboggan]

A shallow sigh of alleviation departs from his maw at Crow's proposition.

A considerable number of outcomes he had conjectured to come from tonight's visitation, though staying overnight wasn't one of them. Of course, he asked for that very thing from the Roux, in a rather insolent manner, too, but had reckoned that the alabaster feline would just turn him down. To simply put it, Leroy did not expect to get this far. Though who was he to decline? The General offered his hospitality free of charge, hospitality being something he had been deprived of for far too long. Every single night he found himself crashing at his place all by himself. Distant from everybody, cut off from everybody. Each Tangler knew of his existence, yet he regularly found himself wondering if anyone truly liked him.

Anyone other than Crow.

Crow, the only one kind enough to not look down their snout in his way, it seemed. The only one who cared enough to speak kindly to him whenever they met, rather than belittle and criticize. Tanglewood's commander-in-chief exhibited nothing but unbridled sympathy towards Leroy, only to receive mockery from the cur in return. God, the way he treated the feline was despicable, looking back on all the names Crow got called and the sarcasm that got directed in his way. Hell, the canine physically hurt the guy in the past. And despite all of that, Crow offered his home for the night - as well as tea, and even a hug for good measure.

"I don't deserve this..." he abruptly mouths as his gaze shamefully falls to the flooring. "Hell, Crow, I don't deserve you. Not after my bullyin' and whatnot. Especially not after I pushed ya like that one time."

The pair of paws at the end of his forelimbs started shuffling around once again. This was, what, the third time he found himself doing so? He hoped that the cat took no notice of his visible discomfort, especially when Leroy's words were legitimate for once.

"If ya really mean it," he continues, traces of uncertainty lurking within his words, "then I'll stay the night. This really means a lot to me, ya know, so thanks a lot. And, uh, ya can hug me or I'll hug ya whenever ya want."