Firefly Glen the old haunt

Leta's story reminded Osiris of Arcturus and of when he had challenged Hydra's position. He frowned as he listened, disagreeing with both his memory and hers; communication could have easily prevented such drastic matters. "I think that your parents made the right choice," Osiris decided, his bias palpable. Although he didn't know the entire situation, he trusted her judgment. "My Dad said that sometimes emotions get in the way of logic, and wolves act on impulse," Osiris recalled carefully. "It doesn't excuse their behavior—not to me, at least—but it is a good way to explain those kinds of situations." He hoped that she would find solace in it, too. 

Osiris grinned at Leta's encouragement. "Yes," he confirmed; actions did speak louder than words at Moonspear. Her kind words stuck to his ribs and warmed his heart; he would continue to work hard. Especially if it meant she'd continue to compliment his abilities. 

When Leta looked back to the fireflies, Osiris studied her. He was also awed, but for an entirely different reason. Leta was beautiful, and Osiris couldn't help but stare.