Laetes is flinchy. He keeps stalking her, back and forth, and then stopping as if to contemplate whether it's worth risking his god's ire to lunge into the sea at her, and stalking again. Lethys does not react to either of them, but there is a kind of buzz in the air, godly tension Laetes can feel in the pin-needle stand of his fur that says do not make a move.

He scowls, anyway, and goes rigidly still as Sweetheart closes the distance. Lethys does not make sense, telling him to leave their borders unwatched, telling him to dismiss the presence of this Creature in their Land.

Closer.

She touches him. He is trembling. Not with fear, but with restraint. This is the Creature he hates, should hate, is supposed to hate; a Creature from whom he defended their realm, the Creature he spent a countless era torturing - he learned malice from torturing this Creature, from fighting her, his restless patrols leading up to vicious fights, he anticipated her and her master even during her absence and now she is back and his task is singleminded -

The Leopard will get in two pats to Laetes' head before his restraint snaps and his head lunges forty-five degrees sideways and fastens teeth around her wrist like a metal trap, a growl rumbling from his chest.