Raising an eyebrow the man listened before giving Leon a look.
“If you’re sure.” He shrugged before setting about unzipping the monstrous thing and shrugging it off. The first thing revealed easily was the mark over where his heart rested in his chest. A nasty black thing that looked more like a keyhole then an old wound. A tell tale sign of what had made it.
A few other tell tale scars littered his body. One a bright and still healing red that cleaved through almost half of his right side. A jagged scar of a through and through from the weapon that had all but claimed his Nobody. He’d spend thirteen years fighting, and had plenty to show for it. Those two were his most prominent. Other small ones were a few medical marks on his wrists and the insides of his elbows. Lea made no comment on any of them.
He didn’t bother to remove the gloves or anything else, figuring he could scrub them in the shower.
“Good luck.” He smirked before turning to go where Leon had said to head. Turning to show a single mark on one shoulder, just above one shoulder blade. A mark the same color his tattoos had been, VIII.
A scarred man himself, Leon made no effort to comment nor question the markings that covered Lea’s body. It was rude, and each one told a different story--a personal story. One that only years of friendship and rapport deserved. He understood that well, and because of that he remained quiet as the cloak was handed to him and Lea made his exit.
But he noticed in detail the scars, and for a moment, it made him sad. All scars were a reflection of fighting--not just physical fighting, either. As Leon began scrubbing the cloak clean in hot water, he mulled over what it meant. The redhead had seen a lot of pain in his life, pain that even Leon probably didn’t understand. That was a difficult thing to cope with, because even though Lea didn’t believe that he was a good or helpful person, his actions often said different. Leon believed different.
Leaving the cloak to soak for a few minutes, the brunette headed into his room and readied clothing for Lea. A black, long-sleeved shirt, some gray sweats, and a pair of white socks if he wanted. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Then, he returned to the kitchen and sought out all the alcohol he owned. Beer and vodka were his staples, though he didn’t often drink.That was a dangerous path he never wanted to tread.
All that was left was to wait.
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