It’s a nervous habit, and not a good one. After all, it’s not like most kids do this kind of thing while lost in thought. Hell, most of them aren’t even capable of it, unless they’re near a stove. It’s unfortunate that Leo doesn’t need a stove to end up igniting on every other day of the week, sour feelings and sadness leading to him trying to keep his thoughts occupied.
Pieces fit together, small gathered bits on the bench next to him as his fingers work with a skill one can only be gifted with. He has no need for a miniature motor, nor does he have something to stick it in, but he likes to build. Likes to connect and twist and create a finely tuned machine.
It’s a good thing most people aren’t around, but there are a few, one of which bore witness to the sparks the younger seemed to give off without his knowledge, only actually noticing once the smell of burning cloth hit his nose. Nose wrinkles, and finally Leo looks down, only to see his sleeve currently on fire. Silence reigns for a second before he jumps from his seat, rapidly swatting it with a hand.
“Come on, man, this is like my only shirt left!”
He hardly seems concerned about either pain or heat.
firabo