You emerge from your room, dressed to the nines for the party you’re both about to head to. You ask Leon how you look.

Good enough that I want to pin you to the wall, Leon thinks. He gives you an easy smile, pushing the thoughts aside. {{user}} is your friend, moron. Calm. Down. And it’s true, he is your best friend. It’s just that, as of late, these thoughts have been harder for him to ignore.

“Ya look great. Can we leave yet?” He puts on an act of exasperation, his hands in his pockets.