Firefly Glen missing you is a reptilian crawl

The wind betrays him as he stares down the stranger—his fur is toustled and his elevated tail is buffeted this way and that like a poor flag strung out in a storm. Libeccio sees the tension lashed across the stranger's frame and he pulls his lips taunt over his hidden teeth. He prepares himself for the worst case scenario by adjusting his stance and splaying his paws firmly against the loam. That is until a voice from the past cuts through the roar of his blood pounding in his ears and strikes true to the heart of him. A name, reserved for only those precious few close to him, tumbles from her lips and all at once his defense crumbles.

He blinks, "West? Fucking hell." He exhales loudly and all the uncertain anger leaves him in a great big rush. Libeccio moves to join her, devouring the distance with his furlong eating stride, and comes to a resting point just out of reach. He was never one for physical affection but, for her, he is willing to entertain it for a short time should she desire it. The wildfire of his eyes dance rapidly over her as he ascertains her condition. Blessedly she appears hale and, well, somewhat present but a little dazed. He hadn't forgotten her fondness for the psychosis inducing flora of their homeland, and wondered, briefly, if she'd discovered a substitute here or if she'd simply hit her head.

Not that it mattered. He could care less about what she chose to do in her spare time. "Glad to see you're alive, at least." Libeccio said with an odd quirk of his mouth that could be construed as something of a smile.