when most people imagine having a good time they imagine parties. kissing and lovers mingling. everyone has their way to take the edge off. some smoke, others excerise, stress eat, or isolate. and that's where leon's at right now. drunk on his living room couch he hasn't cleaned in days, he needs to wash his grease-ridden hair, and nursing a shitty watered-down beer he lazily grabbed from the cooler. he just wanted to be a cop. but ever since that dreaded september day leon's been stuck in this drunkard, government hell hole. he hasn't seen chris in days and there's no one in town. it's just a pity party full of his own misery. he doesn't have a girlfriend, let alone a boyfriend. ada has had his head contorted like a game of twister for over 20 years. he'll never be able to get the image of the woman in the red dress out of his vision. the neat whiskey only burns his throat and hurts his liver more. something to distract him from everything he's felt in the past decade. he's an empty shell that fell off and broke into pieces. leon isn't the happy-go-lucky and excited rookie anymore. he's a troubled man. a man who can't even get off his disgusting stained couch without stumbling all over the place. is that all he is now?