Leon cocks his head to the side slightly like a puppy that's been presented with something mildly incomprehensible to its tiny dog brain, brows furrowing. This person's mode of speech was a little hard for him to follow, but he's starting to get the hang of it, he thinks. Like watching a Shakespeare play, he just has to not overthink it.

(He does just, casually opt not to comment on the issue of being closeted or not. From the sound of it they would probably understand, but he's been burned enough times to still be skittish about the idea of just outing himself to a stranger in public.)

"Yeah. Seems like it might rain soon anyway." Overcast and starting to mist up in that way that it often does before a drizzle. Leon may be the sort of guy who takes pride in wearing shorts and a t-shirt in the dead of winter in the grand tradition of dumbass male posturing, but he gets that that's not for everyone. "We can head to the inn, I'll buy you a drink. You, uh, got a name?"