The door opens and Leon immediately averts his eyes, instinct at this point--better risk offense than risk getting another Ward, better stay away from people than getting too close.

She says his name and he lets it sit there in the air while he remembers how to speak. His shoes are worn and he feels a little ashamed, showing up like this--it's not the first time, but he thought maybe being an adult meant you stopped showing up bleeding on other people's doorsteps. His name sounds so gentle in his own ears, when she says it like that, like she cares, and it makes him wince a little. He wonders if she's drunk, feels ashamed for wondering.

Talk. He needs to talk--has to talk He doesn't need to talk, things are so much easier when he doesn't have to talk (always have been, always have been, grunts and head shakes and fists getting his point across so much better than any word he's managed to choke between his teeth) but he has to talk.

"Scarlett," he says, and it doesn't sound as measured as he wants it to. His voice warbles and he instantly hates himself, curls his left hand up into a fist while his right hangs uselessly to his side, white blood running between his fingers and dripping onto her front step. He has to keep going though, because he's here now, and he can't just turn around after she's opened the door. He's been called, and he's here, like he always is, running back to her.

Talk, don't think. State the obvious, Leon, and try not to bleed too much.

"You're back."