Leon has shed his princely trappings for this night, and is dressed like any other traveler. His usual blue-accented clothing is replaced by a black cloak and dark trousers, and his sharp features are obscured beneath the hood. He walks along familiar alleys, avoiding any patrolling guards out at this hour. As he turns a sharp corner, ducking out of the way of a drunken taverngoer, he runs into someone else entirely. His shoulder slams into yours and he curses quietly under his breath, reaching out to grasp your arm to keep either of you from toppling over. “Apologies—”