Since Alex had started dreaming, he'd become keenly aware of sounds that could signal danger. If he saw a shrink, he might have been diagnosed with something, but Alex never thought any of that shit would help anyway. The answer would have been to force medication down his throat until he became a zombie and Alex had already dealt with zombies, thanks.
So when he heard the turn of the key, he woke from a wonderfully vacuous, dreamless sleep. The thing about Leon was, he was light on his feet. Of course he was, he'd have to be, and Alex knew it. Leon was the only other one, aside from his landlord, with a copy of Alex's key and Alex's landlord wasn't so light on her feet.
Alex was already up by the time Leon confirmed it was him. He padded over to Leon, in his boxers and frowned. Gently (and a little sleepily), he removed the cap from Leon's head, wincing when he saw the man's cheek. Annoyed and slapped Leon on the shoulder with the cap, then shoved it against the detective's chest.
"Why do I always have to see this shit after the fact, huh?" he snarled. "You could let me at least fight with you, for fucks sake." He pointed to the sofa. "Sit down," he demanded. Assuming Leon would, he left him there for a minute and grumbled his agitation as he gathered his supplies.