Dizzy Land

Leon woke up that morning, and sniffed the air. He wasn't exactly himself - the mysical lion that resided in his soul was getting restless. It had been cooped up in this human for so long, allowing itself to sleep, not letting the human part of it know it was there. It had done a good job of hiding itself these past twenty years (when Leon was eight, the lion had decided to share its soul), and had even managed to hide itself from Count D, but now it was tired of this vessel.

He stretched in a feline like way, and sniffed the air again. There weren't many animals in the park, he could tell, but he could always go for some ducks. Or maybe he could hunt humans. That would be fun.

D had been really good about having Leon borrowing his name and pretending to be him in various letters, and his exchange with Chii had made him feel highly guilty for it, so he decided to make it worth D's while.

He had gone to get some pastries*, and hiding them in a bag behind his back, he knocked on the restaurant door, poked his head in, and called, "D, you in?"

((I'm assuming he got them from Rae's restaurant. Of course, it's not overly important, but just thought I'd mention it. I'm hoping that doesn't cause any problems, because if it does I'll just assume he got them someplace else. >_>;;))

Once Mickey gave the okay for D to leave, Leon took his hand in his and began taking him back to D's place, feeling a lot lighter than he had felt in a long, long time. He probably walked a little slower than usual just to drink in the fact that D was there again, with him, but only a little bit slower.

He got to D's place in what seemed like far too short a time. "So," he said. "Would you like me to write Carrot now?" he asked D, not letting go of his hand yet.

((EDIT: Warning for potential smut. About effing time. Jesus, four years.))

Independence Day had been one of Leon's favourite holidays. Being away from home for so long had elevated it quite a few notches, so that if he was asked now what his favourite holiday was, he wouldn't even need to think about it before he said "the Fourth of July." Every year, he took the day off (and the next day, because he usually either had a killer hangover, or was still drunk by the next day), and it was never any problem because he usually jumped at working Christmas and other family holidays that most of the force wanted it.

This Independence Day (or week, or however long the decorations intended to be up for) had been somewhat dampened already.

He had spent the last two Independence Days before he left America with D (well, the day part, at least. The nights he tended to spend with a good-looking girl in a pub), and this year wasn't going to be any different. Well, it would in the sense that he wasn't looking forward to spending the night in a pub or a bed with a hot broad, and he was kind of pissed off. But he was still going to be with D none-the-less.

"That fucking Crowley," Leon snarled, throwing open the doors to the candy shop a little more forcefully than was necessary. "He's a goddamned asshole, how the hell is he related to Antoinette? Fucking rich bastard."

It was really no different than most of Leon's visits.