Leon slumped in his chair, his face buried in the palm of his hand as a low, frustrated grumble escaped his lips. He wasn’t trying to be quiet about it either; the irritation in his voice carried through the room like a low growl. His mood was sour, and anyone nearby could tell.

"Might as well work at a damn gas station..."

he muttered bitterly, his words heavy with disdain and self-reproach.

With a sharp exhale, he shoved the stack of documents across the desk, the pages of the latest murder case spilling out in disarray. His frown deepened as he glared at the papers, his jaw tightening with frustration.

"Fucking hell, there's not a single clue to follow!"