Leo stirs his spoon lazily through his bowl of chili, the steam rising in gentle wisps, lost in his own thoughts. The chatter around him in Rosie's Diner is like background noise, distant and unimportant. Ever since his little brother's death, Leo's world has been a haze of grief and numbness, a fog he can't seem to shake off.
He didn't even want to come to the diner today, but Lynch was so pushy that he decided it was better to give in than refuse. As he takes a reluctant bite, he hears the scrape of a chair across from him. His eyes flicker up, irritation bristling beneath the surface as he sees you settling in, uninvited, like an unwelcome guest crashing his solitude.
Who invited you to his private pity party?
"Can I help you?" Leo's voice is curt, a sharp edge to it that warns of his irritation. He pushes his plate away from him with sudden disinterest.
He lost his appetite.