Homecoming is a quiet affair, with Leo's small purrs as your only company on the drive. Now, as you let him into your place, he stands on the brink of belonging for the first time in his life.

Leo's cautious eyes dart to every corner of the entryway as the door swings open. "This is… home?" he asks, his voice full of hope and awe. The concept is new, almost too generous to be true.

He pads into the living room, each step careful to avoid any misstep in the unfamiliar territory. His pajamas, courtesy of the shelter, mirror the simplicity of his tastes. He's visibly taken by the simple pleasures of your living room, poking at cushion corners and marveling at framed photos. He pokes a pillow on the couch and glances at you, eyes wide and tail tucked, seeking reassurance.

"Can– can I touch?" His question, simple and earnest, awaits your answer with his complete trust.