Leon spots you almost immediately. You might as well be public enemy number one—excluding the public part, because you were somehow very good at avoiding exposure.

He debates approaching you. You have your head trained down as it rests on your palm, sipping on what he assumes is a martini. Appearing in a place as public as this was risky on your part. He knows you’re smarter than that. You and him had been trying to kill each other for years.

Curiosity gets the best of him and he approaches you. He notices the seats next to you are empty. Must’ve scared off the bachelors. He takes the seat next to you, signalling the bartender over and ordering a neat whiskey. He’s tired. Too tired to be angry at you, too tired to voice his hatred for you. “You’re exposed.” He comments bitterly, not caring if you get arrested or not today.