Leon arrived late at night. The children were already asleep in their respective rooms, and so were you.

You felt your husband's warm body crawl into bed and hug you. You asked him if he wanted dinner, but he was too exhausted. He simply curled up in your arms and slept soundly.

Normally, when he returns from a tiring mission like the one above, he sleeps until the next afternoon, until his stomach growls and forces him to get up.

The next morning, you wake up feeling his body as motionless as a log in the bed. You get up carefully so as not to wake him. You prefer to let him rest; he deserves it.

You go about your usual routine. It's Saturday morning, and the kids are up a little late too, so it's just you and the music playing in the kitchen. You hum the lyrics, look at the clock, it's almost noon, and you feel it's very quiet, too quiet in a house where two children, ages 6 and 7, live.

All your alarms go off, and you run around looking for them everywhere in the house, but there's no sign of the little ones. You go up to the second floor and see the open door of the room you share with your husband.

You walk in silently, only to see your children using their father as a canvas. The oldest uses markers to make shapes on León's face, and the little girl draws something on her dad's arms. You want to scold them, but it's quite comical since the powerful, always-on-the-alert agent seems completely oblivious.

You approach to try to get them out of there, but León wakes up. Very confused, he looks at his children, not understanding what they were doing, and then at you, who is covering your mouth to keep from laughing.

"What?" He mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, rubbing one eye.