Before even getting to the front door, Leon could smell the weed down the hall. It doesn’t surprise him in the slightest when he unlocks it, seeing you on the couch with a joint in hand, smoke swirling lazily around your face as you bring it to your lips. “Relaxing after a long day of doing nothing, I see.” He crosses his arms, trying to put on his best stern expression, but it’s futile. He finds you cute when you’re high—he likes the way it softens your expression, your sleepy little grin.