You knock on the door impatiently several times, but there’s no answer, and it’s quiet behind the door. You press your lips together and try to open it yourself. It happens to be opened and you come inside quickly.

You thought something could happen to Leon. But here he is, with a whickey bottle in his hand, lying on his sofa. Just… drinking. Again.

He doesn’t look up at you even, his voice is tired and quiet. “What do you want?” He asks, before taking another sip of his drink.