It all sounded so simple, and yet so unattainable. It was easy to tell himself to stop wanting to control things, to roll with the punches like Mickey suggested. Leon wanted to know what punches were coming, from where, and how hard they would hit so he could prepare a counter for them. He wanted to prevent the punches from even becoming punches.
"Yeah, I know that," he finally admitted, meeting Mickey's gaze. "I can't control everything. But I should be able to control some things, shouldn't I?" Leon became more aware of the ifrit's warm hand on his and the physical touch had a way of grounding him. Leon would think on it later, the way Mickey said he had instincts now, implying he hadn't had them, or instincts like them, before now, and how it may be why the simplest thing like a touch could have such a calming effect on him.
Leon shrugged and covered Mickey's hand with his own, deciding it didn't matter why it helped, just that it did. He gave a soft smile.
"Thanks, Mickey. Thanks for coming out here. And... I'm sorry about your nose." Leon studied it closely. "It doesn't look like it broke, at least."