It was starting; that itch in his nose, the feverish feeling, the symptoms that Leo knew meant that it had been too fucking long. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t been aware that it was happening. He’d been busy, he told himself. Busy and distracted. So when he finished up his last client for the afternoon (large thigh piece, a mandala with dripping gems), and he couldn’t focus, Leo knew he had to do something.
He left the tattoo shop, quickly after his client had left, and glanced around. It wouldn’t be enough, not really, but it could be something. Something to stave off the fog, the baser need, and allow him to breathe for a little while longer. And so, he approached the other, trying to seem unassuming. “Hey, so. I know this is unconventional, but… do you need help with anything? Yard-work? Grocery shopping? Whatever?”