[Hah, if he was worried before, that fades away immediately with her own flattery, too. Leon eases even more, grinning as he heads into the park with her, one hand still touching her arm; he could put an arm around her, but maybe later. When it's more crowded. That's always a good excuse for closeness.

He digs for his wallet and his card as they head up to the kiosk for tickets:]

It's on me this time, got it? I totally know how you feel! It's been—

[Someday he'll be able to say things like this without catching himself up. But he's not there yet. As he so often does, he opens his mouth to give some kind of timeframe or something, and then realizes halfway through the sentence that he doesn't know the answer. There are two years of his life missing from his head. Everything he remembers other than Hope's Peak happened two years longer ago than he thinks it did; everything he doesn't remember, well, he can't say anything about what he did then, can he?

At least he recovers gracefully. He still makes this mistake, and his halting in the middle of the sentence is still obvious, but it used to be that catching up on this wrecked his mood for a while. Now he's just slightly embarrassed at himself for looking awkward.]

—a while for me too! I don't even know how long! Heh . . . I guess technically I could come here whenever I wanted now, but it'd just be sad to go alone, right? This ain't the kinda thing you do by yourself on a whim when you're bored.