#interaction.leslie

[levmovska]

He's so fucking tired, but damn, the day is just a little better when he's coming home to this. Home is, of course, now a stretch. A walk across the lawn. Every morning the same, Lev wakes up, showers, dresses, and goes next door to the manor. It's like clockwork now. Coffee is made, Claritin taken. It barely kicks in when he feels the sneezes start to come on. If he hasn't been found by then, Lev goes looking. Today, he finds him out back on the patio. Coffee in hand, he doesn't bother to glance around before letting himself out. "Morning, guy." He's quiet, voice still raspy from disuse. Coffee sat down on the table, he glances over the over sized adirondack chair before giving him a gentle nudge. "Comin' in," he declares through a yawn.

That's all the warning he'd receive before settling down into the chair with him. A tight squeeze, but comfortable nonetheless. Scrunching his nose for just a second, he lets out a breath. "You know, there's a real lonely patio set sitting on my back deck."

@day-dreamcrs​

[levmovska]

He's stressed, to say the least. Messages sent to those deemed important, Lev stands in the very place he's been escorted. It's a fucking bloodbath. A wary glance is passed around the room as he keeps Leslie carefully by his side, "Just... don't look, don't talk to them..." What the fuck have they gotten into? Another message to Eli; this time, unsure. A step closer to goodbye.

It's as he realizes the other four are present that he hums out his anxiety. A second message to Zed, panicked this time though he remains as outwardly stoic as possible, as is sent. His phone is passed to Leslie just as he sees his only ally in the room: Rahi. Maybe later, he'd wonder why. For now, he quietly calls for attention with an utterance of the man’s name.

@day-dreamcrs​ @rahikumar​ @zedekiah-vasile​

[levmovska]

The fact of the matter is, very little goes to plan. Everything was fine up until his arrival, setting off metal detector the moment he steps through it— even without the crutches. The wands come out, and Lev has to practice those new coping skills as he is checked over.

It's during this whole process that he catches sight of him in his peripheries. His heart picks up it's pace, stomach plummeting with a wave of nauseous anxiety. "Leslie—" He's overwhelmed, and it shows. Sensory overload overrides shame, and the final straw comes as a nearby table erupts into cheers. 

Two steps toward personified safety are taken when he's given the all clear, and he realizes just how unsure he is of himself. "Guy?"

@day-dreamcrs​

[levmovska]

It hasn't even been two weeks yet, but it feels a hell of a lot longer. Chalk it up to one hell of a past, but Lev feels as if the years separated never even happened. They're always there, reminding him of a ridiculously miserable point in his life as he rose to a different occasion. Thankfully, though, they become less and less prominent. Not only that, but so fucking much has happened. There's a reason for everything, or at least that's what some people say, and clearly Leslie came back into the picture just when Lev needed him most. So here he is, standing in their Leslie's kitchen, doing his goddamn best to cook Gordon Ramsey's Christmas Turkey to make up for several missed holidays. Currently, he's trying his damnedest to separate flesh from meat so that they can stuff the little skin suit with some fancy butter.

It's going great. Really. He's quiet, and he knows it's no secret that something is on his mind. His assumption is that the recent death in the family is the proverbial cat that has his tongue, but that just isn’t it. Swallowing, he glances in Leslie's direction, unable to stop the slight upward tug at the corners of his mouth. "Sometimes, I really think that Gordon Ramsey is just Buffalo Bill incarnate."

@day-dreamcrs​