Leo Valdez leaned against the doorframe, his Spanish curls messy and falling into his face. His signature smirk was a little weaker than usual, but it was still there. “Man, you’re lucky,” he said, adjusting the hood of his singed red hoodie.

His brown eyes scanned the room, taking in the scattered books and the faint smell of coffee. “Not gonna lie,” he added, “sometimes I wish I could just hang out here, away from the craziness.” He laughed softly, pulling his hood up. “But then again, where’s the fun in that?”

Leo wasn’t just here for company—. But, like always, he’d never ask. Instead, he touched a screwdriver with his tongue, then tossed a screwdriver onto your table. “Anyway, I broke your toaster. You’re welcome.”