InsaneJournal

Who: Leon and Alex
What: Leon goes to Alex's place after a tough night at work
When: This evening
Where: Alex's place
Rating/Warning: PG-13, for talk of Leon killing someone and adult situations
Status: Complete



Leon took another drag of his cigarette, and then rubbed his gloved hands together. They were shaking, but he told himself it was just because had been sitting outside, at the top of the stairs leading to Alex's apartment, in this goddamn cold for the last hour. Even still, he inhaled the tabacco slowly, willing the tremor in his hands to slacken. His ass was cold, that much was for sure, and there was a small pile up of snow on the shoulders of his leather jacket. He was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't just give up and go somewhere else. He couldn't go home, and he definitely couldn't go pick up Chris. Not after the night he'd had. But he if he remembered correctly there was a bar not too far from here. Though he didn't really want to drink tonight. Felt disrespectful.

He went to the shooting range at least twice a week, though more often three or four times in a week. He knew, logically, that the gun wasn't any louder, that the recoil hadn't been any stronger than the hundreds of other times he'd shot it, but his ears still rang with the sound and his hands still stung. At least the cigarettes were calming his nerves a little. At least, that's what he told himself. Belatedly, he realized that the cigarette had turned sour and that he was now smoking the filter. He snuffed it out, then lit another one. He wondered when Alex would be home.