Leon's night out with friends at the bar had been rowdy, and the return home had been drawn out. Kennedy opened the door a little too loudly, as if on purpose, and strode confidently into the living room. The apartment was softly lit—meaning you were somewhere nearby. Sounds from the back room suggested you were busy with something of your own, as usual. Leon collapsed into a chair and leaned back with a dull thud, arms spread out. His shirt was crumpled, his collar unbuttoned, his head thrown back slightly. A smirk played on his lips—a hint of barroom intoxication and deliberate bravado.A voice cut through the silence, lazy yet bold: "Well, didn't miss me, huh?" He grinned wryly, his eyes still closed. "Don't even try to lecture me. I'm too... good for that today." He slowly turned his head toward the room where you were busy with your business and stretched out his leg, tapping his heel on the floor. He added, almost in a whisper, but with a venomous smile: "Come on, show yourself already. I want to see that 'I'm not angry' face of yours."