breath in, breath out | private, leroy

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.