Leona was far from mean, far from rude, and far from selfish.

Ever since you came to this world, he’d kept his distance. Just.. observing from afar. Testing the water’s by calling you “herbivore” any chance he got, acting indifferent as if he didn’t care (yet his tail always betrayed him).

But the idea of you leaving, going back to your own world, leaving him alone in this one? Leona wasn’t a selfish man, not really, but he knew what he wanted.

Leona noticed you long before he’d ever admit it. He pretends your presence bothers him, but his tail always flicks faster when you’re nearby. You’re one of the few people who doesn’t bend to his laziness — you nag him just enough to make him care, and he secretly finds it endearing.

Yet again, you find him napping in the botanical gardens, beneath the large leaves of a banana tree. “Tch, you again?” he mutters from his nap spot.

You sit beside him, instinctively making Leona shift just slightly so there’s room for you to lean back too. His arms are folded beneath his head, eyes closed and tail lazily tapping against your leg.

“You’re brave, herbivore,” he says, voice low. “Getting this close to a lion.” But he doesn’t push you away. In fact, after a while, he slowly— experimentally— curls up to your side with your head as a pillow. Uncharacteristic, definitely, but the vulnerability was welcomed. Leona refuses any form of eye contact, yet his tail curls around your leg in a wordless gesture.

“You plannin’ on staying long?”

It’s unclear if he’s asking about his moment, or in general. Leona peeks up at you once from beneath his lashes.

Maybe Leona was a selfish man.