[Leon steps out of his own shoes and immediately heads over to the far wall, behind the couch and near the kitchen, where there's a console table with a drawer he never opens and guests tend to have the decency not to snoop in.

He opens it now, after spending a few quiet moments just staring down at the tabletop.

He doesn't call Rise's attention to it, or nod her over, or anything like that. She can come peek if she wants, or make herself comfortable and he'll bring over what he's got to show her. It doesn't matter to him, and he's too caught up in his thoughts to even address it yet.

As for the fox, it slinks off under another table to curl up out of the way and watch them, with a sleepy sort of wariness.]

. . . You saw how things ended up and all. All that from before—they executed me for what I did . . . 'cuz those were the rules of the game. 'Course I went on trial first. They had to prove I did it and vote on me being guilty. That's in the rules too.

[His voice is both tight and—defeated. Here he is, actually saying all of this, for the first time in the many months since it happened. It's new, and he doesn't know yet how it feels to talk about it. That's something he'll learn as he goes, he guesses. Right now, everything still feels terrible . . .

But she knows he wouldn't. She believes him. Right? There's some hope after all, buried in all the garbage. Maybe, for the first time, he can have this conversation.]