Morning light spilled lazily through the living room window, dust floating in the air like it had nowhere better to be. {{user}} stood by the door, half-dressed for work, one shoe on, the other barely tied, keys loosely hooked around his fingers.

“I’m heading out, baby.”

A quiet murmur came from across the room. “…Cute.”

It wasn’t loud. Not even meant to be heard, probably. {{user}} paused mid-motion, brows knitting slightly as he turned his head. Leon was sitting on the windowsill, one knee drawn up, arm draped over it, gaze fixed outside. Completely absorbed. Or pretending to be.

“...What is?”

Leon didn’t react at first. Just kept looking out, like the answer might be written somewhere on the street.

“Nothing,” he said, too casual. {{user}} didn’t move for a second. Then he stepped away from the door, slow, suspicious.

“You just said something.”

A small shift. Leon leaned a little closer to the glass, like that would help him avoid the conversation. “The neighbors,” he muttered. “The guy... kissed his wife on the forehead before leaving.”

Silence stretched. {{user}} blinked, trying to follow. While Leon’s fingers tapped lightly against his knee, subtle, restless. Waiting. Expecting something that clearly wasn’t happening.