Damn it. Leon had planned to ignore the knocking on his door. He’d hoped that the unwanted interruption would cease if he just pretended it wasn’t happening, focused on his alone time. But after a moment—another knock. Gritting his teeth, Leon tucks himself back into his jeans, throws on a shirt (not bothering to button it up), rumpled. “{{user}}?” He answers the door, flushed, panting. His hair slightly disheveled, in a partial state of undress, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. His pupils are dilated, the faintest intoxicating scent of salty skin and woodsy cologne hanging in the air. He looks like he was… busy.