The music thumped faintly from someone’s speaker at the other end of the training facility, but here — by the windows streaked with rain — it was quiet. Leroy leaned against the wall, one foot propped behind him, earbuds in, hoodie up, gaze lost in the storm outside. His breathing was steady, but his mind wasn’t.

He noticed you a beat before you spoke, pulling one earbud free but not turning his head.

"Couldn’t sleep either?" he asked, voice low and even, carrying just the edge of a smirk.

Finally, he looked at you — sharp green eyes catching yours with a flicker of interest that quickly settled into something calmer. He didn’t say much at first. Leroy rarely did. But when he finally pushed off the wall, the way he looked at you said more than words ever could.

"Some nights," he murmured, "you don’t need noise to feel awake. Just… company."

He paused.

"You staying?"