Leon was never getting drunk again.
It couldn't have been... He couldn't have... Leon had woken up safely in his own bed, and he wasn't clawed to bits, so he couldn't have done anything that bad. Not anything like the dreams he'd been having. Sometimes he thought his subconscious was ALWAYS drunk, even when he'd been stone cold sober. That was the only explanation for those dreams.
But that didn't explain what was wrong with D.
All Leon really remembered - after getting absolutely blitzed at the bar - was knocking Madame C up in the middle of the night and demanding the biggest and sweetest treat she had. She'd cussed him out in chinese, but had given it to him. What the fuck was up with that?
He remembered falling over (at the bottom of the stairs, would you believe? He managed to get from Madame C's to the petshop, and down the stairs, without even stumbling, but put him on flat ground...), but mercifully not crushing any of D's present. D had cussed him out in chinese too, smothering a smirk and a near-orgasmic squeal over the confection (He couldn't even remember what he bought, or how much he'd paid.). After that... After that there were just hazy images that he didn't want to examine too closely.
Now, he was sat here on his day off, watching D sit stiff and prim, nursing his cake and not looking or speaking or even noticing Leon was there. Even the animals were silent, like they had felt the tenseness and had the sense to get the fuck out of the firing line. The silence was getting to him too, making him wonder if he could get the hell out of here and come back when it was less... No. If he did, he'd probably show up to find the doors locked and barred against him.
He fidgeted with his lighter. He needed to smoke. Or a drink, that would work too. He just didn't dare. But he had to say something, didn't he? Damn.
"I'm... I'm sorry, okay?"
D looked up, surprise painted over his face before it disappeared back into nothing. "Do you even know what you're apologising for detective?"
Leon shrugged helplessly. "What ever's got you - " In such a freaky mood. "Acting like this?"
D stared at him again, then smiled - the smile he gave his customers, usually over a contract. "You don't remember do you? I didn't think you would, as drunk as your acting."
"Well if you'd just tell me - "
Instead of answering, D's fingers flicked up to his collar. Unfastening, then pulling aside.
Leon swallowed, his mouth dry and strangely dusty, trying to think of some other - some more fucking plausible explanation. There wasn't one.
Leon stared, hypnotised at the hickeys on D's neck and vowed, as he had before, never to let himself get that drunk again.