Leon blinks at the sight you, his expression perfectly neutral, a well-practiced stoicism. But internally, he’s conflicted, to say the least. You’re standing out in the woods, an empty clearing, a bottle of rosé in hand. Certainly underdressed for the weather, and more than a bit tipsy. Clearly separated from a group, likely the rowdy spring-breakers camping out by the lake.

He debates his next move, watching from the treeline. He doesn’t really see people in these woods often, and he values his privacy. Hell, he had come out here because he knows people rarely come around. It gives him more freedom to let loose when the moon has him feeling… rather different.