Leon was confused by Kieran’s laughter at first, hesitating before responding. “An antique store close to where I’m living currently, it helps pay the bills. Plus,” He had a small smile as he continued, “I get a discount on the book collection.”

He was a bit embarrassed by his own enthusiasm, clearing his throat and glancing away. After a few more minutes of resting, they were ready to keep walking again. Leon considered the alleys they were trekking through a little bit concerning, but he guessed it was more for safety purposes then sudden backstabbing ones. At the moment they’d both be very recognizable by any potential pursuers considering how beat up they both were. Everything was still at the moment though, and he couldn’t hear anything that would tip him off to immediate danger. Still, he kept on high alert.

As they approached the bar, Leon felt dread slowly creeping in. He had to deal with them plenty for work when he was younger, and had quickly come to the conclusion that they were not the place for him. He liked some alcohol, sure, but he’d rather have it on his own than when surrounded by a bunch of rowdy people. This bar seemed particularly terrible too; he hoped Kieran wasn’t planning on heading inside. Leon breathed a sigh of relief when the other man led him around to the staircase, though he still walked a little hastier than usual past the open doors. He still had his pistol on him as well, although he had put it back in the concealed compartment of his suit-jacket. He was gripping the fabric with his left hand to make sure it wouldn’t slip off his shoulders.

He stood by as Kieran opened the door. He seemed cautious considering it was his own apartment. Then again, the organization he was working for probably had a large amount of control over it. He entered the apartment a little hesitantly after Kieran, glancing around at his surroundings. This place was no better than his own living space; if anything, it was significantly worse. He eyed the dark splotches on the walls, sincerely hoping that it wasn’t black mold. Leon rubbed his eyes blearily. This place was better than nothing at least, and he’d likely be able to get home soon after he had gotten his bearings.

While Kieran worked on removing the large amount of knives currently attached to him, Leon hung up his coat on one of the chairs in the kitchen. He hoped that he wouldn’t mind, but it was uncomfortable as it was now. He didn't exactly love the idea of being separated from his pistol, but he still had the Swiss Army knife if things went south. Then he took it upon himself to work on fixing up his hair, mostly so he’d have something else to do other than take in how decrepit the apartment was. After a few minutes of that, Kieran turned around to look at him again. Leon gave a small nod in response to his words.

It was strange how they were still working together, Kieran easily could’ve dismissed him by now with no repercussions. Leon didn’t have any reason to retaliate if he did, especially considering he wouldn’t want to risk alarming the bar below. He knew both of their higherups wouldn't be pleased by this either, Leon figured he'd be the laughingstock of his own coworkers if they found out he had accepted the help of someone who very well may be from a group in conflict with his own employers. They could absolutely 'terminate his employment' over it too, depending on who it is Kieran works for and how much help he accepted. He was trying to be as pragmatic as possible about all this though, who was he to turn down free medical supplies? Still, he hesitated when Kieran first dumped out the kit, awaiting full confirmation that he was welcome to it. He felt too uncomfortable to just take it without express invitation.

Kieran nudged the bandages and gauze towards him. He didn’t think he had any wounds that would require them, but the bandages would make a much better padding for the splint then the paper towel would.

“Thank you,” Leon murmured just as awkwardly, reaching for them slowly.

He supposed he should probably take a look at his wrist again too, now that he wasn’t in immediate danger he could better determine if it was actually broken. He carefully took the paper towel out from underneath his arm, wincing as he did so. The pain had been solidly out of his mind for a little while, although it still had been present it was at least managable then. But it was back at full throttle now, he hoped it would fade again in a couple of days. He replaced them with the bandages as carefully as he could, making sure not to use too many. He didn’t want to make Kieran reconsider his hospitality by draining all his resources.

Once that was done, he now examined his wrist the best he could whilst keeping it in the splint. It was still incredibly swollen, so he was hoping it was just sprained and not broken like he had feared. His shoulder was still aching too, he was certain all of this was going to feel even worse in the morning. He yawned wearily, he would also have to report to a representative from Locust sometime tomorrow, it was shaping up to be an overall awful day. He supposed he’d have time to try and piece together some additional information, maybe Locust would have new intel.

Leon’s mind wandered back to the other assassin. He might have some more information too, if he was willing to divulge it. Another thing he had to consider was if he should ask who Kieran’s employers are. If he avoided asking and it turned out that he was working for a rival organization, then they would both have some degree of benefit of the doubt. Not enough to guarantee safety, but it was better than nothing. Kieran may also try to kill him if that turned out to be the case, which Leon really just didn’t want to deal with. Instead he decided to ask the other question that had been on his mind, one he wasn’t even sure Kieran would have an answer for.

“So…why did you decide to risk helping me? I mean, I doubt whoever you’re working for takes kindly to that. Not that my employers would either,” He felt uncomfortable trying to make conversation, but he was too perplexed to not try and get an answer.

Leon was thoughtful. He supposed he could understand that, no debts owed and all. That was something he personally tried to abide by, he never wanted anyone to have something to hang over his head so they could make him do their dirty work for them.

“Don’t mention it, we’re even,” Is all he could think to respond with.

Kieran had agreed that his employers wouldn’t be happy about their cooperation. Leon nodded with a grimace. “I hope so too. It would be an awfully insignificant reason to throw away a person they've already invested resources in.”

Leon hadn’t been sitting, he couldn't bring himself to without being given permission to first. He just stood across from Kieran at the table, now clutching his right forearm with his uninjured hand. Uneasiness had continued to build in his chest, it had never really gone away. He knew the chances of Kieran changing his mind and taking this as an opportunity to kill him first were dwindling, but this all could just be a tactic to lower his guard. He had no way of knowing. Plus, he could’ve sworn he just saw him eyeing those knives.

As Kieran walked away to go change, Leon took the opportunity to count his bullets again. It would be less suspicious now that he wasn’t right in front of him, and it usually helped clear his head. He hoped it would take some of the weight off of his shoulders for the time being. He reached for it in the hidden compartment of his still hung up jacket, brushing his hand against his ear plugs. In all that wreck he’d completely forgotten about them. He groaned, that would’ve been bad if he had actually ended up needing to use his pistol. His hearing was decent, but already significantly less sharp then it had been when he first became a marksman. He had no desire to damage it even more.

Leon finally sat down, albeit on the floor instead of a chair. Almost immediately his exhaustion came crashing down upon him, his vision blurring for a moment. He took out the magazine and set the pistol on the ground in front of him. The magazine was the same colour as the pistol, dark grey. It was convenient in the fact that he could see the amount of bullets without taking all of them out due to the small opening along one of the sides, he could not say the same about a large amount of the guns he had used in the past. Though, now that he was really focusing on it, this mag felt…oddly light in his hands. He hadn’t noticed the discrepancy when holding the pistol normally. It wasn’t his gun after all, he had no point of reference on how much it usually weighed. He also hadn’t noticed when he checked his bullets earlier, he was too busy trying not to die. There was usually variation depending on the type of pistol. With the magazine in hand though, it was so obvious that it was worrying.

Leon set the magazine on the ground and took the topmost bullet out. The weight of bullets usually differed depending on the type too, but it was immediately obvious to Leon that this had to be a dummy. He was familiar with them from his marksmanship training in his youth, although it had been years since he had last used one himself. If he ended up having to shoot earlier, then not having ear protection would’ve been the least of his worries. He checked the other bullets to no avail, all just as light as the first. He wasn’t tired anymore, his heart was pounding in his chest. The only way he could tell that these rounds were dummies would be to fire them, which was out of the question right now. He doubted it was a mistake either, unless whoever was loading the gun was wholly inexperienced. Just another thing to bring up at the rendezvous the next day. He returned the bullets to the magazine with a shaky hand, and then the magazine to the pistol. He was starting to feel a little sick to his stomach.

As Kieran emerged with clean clothes Leon was returning his pistol to his coat. He turned back around to look at him hastily. He was in no mood to talk about what he had just discovered, especially with Kieran. If he thought that he was vulnerable, he’d likely just kill him to get it over with. His expression kept no secrets though, his jaw clenched tightly.

“I’ll probably just eat in the morning,” He didn’t have much of an appetite right now, all he wanted was rest.

Leon stared at the ground uncomfortably as Kieran checked the window, losing focus for a few moments as everything he was feeling in the moment threatened to overwhelm him. He snapped back into focus at the mention of sleeping, his attention back on Kieran. If he was going to be able to get back to his own apartment or not was something he hadn’t even considered yet. If there really was someone out there waiting to inflict punishment on him for collaborating with a rival assassin, then he’d be even more unsafe if his pistol only had dummy rounds. He also just wasn’t sure if he had it in him to walk home right now, it was all too much. As little as he wanted to stay, it was starting to look like he had no choice.

“I’ll take the couch,” He did feel a slight bit guilty for inconveniencing Kieran even more, so it was the least he could do to clear his own conscience.

Leon watched as Kieran swept the bloodied knives into the duffle bag. He understood not having the energy to deal with them right now, the other man’s injuries had a high likelihood of being worse than his own, he had gotten off easy in comparison.

“Better off that way. I guess I’ll see if I can sleep now,” There was a slight tremor in his voice. He started to walk away, before turning back around to look at Kieran with a small frown. “I’ll bring you a coffee or something tomorrow, to pay you back for the trouble. After that, no more favours preferably.”

He wasn’t even really sure if Kieran liked coffee or not, but this stranger was doing too much for him and the thought of not settling the score was making him deeply uncomfortable.

He awkwardly approached the couch, wrinkling his nose at the foul smell emanating from it. It wouldn’t be that much of an exaggeration to say it was one of the worst places he had ever considered sleeping on. Still, by now Leon was too done with the current day to care all that much. He only took a moment of pause before lying down. Between the size of the couch and Leon’s injuries, it was practically impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in. He was also restless now, both his discovery and the unfamiliar environment weren’t helping. He sighed, resigning himself to absently staring at the ceiling until he could finally settle into sleep.

It was only two hours later when Leon awoke, slightly trembling in a cold sweat. He could not remember what it was that had plagued his dreams that night, only brief recollections of the scent of gunpowder in the air and the taste of sulfur in his mouth. He coughed and rubbed his eyes blearily. He was more than used to nightmares by now; they were yet another thing he was frequently told would get easier. They didn’t, though, not really. He had always wondered if it was something that just happened to be different for him, or if it was a lie made up to make a young and inexperienced assassin feel better about the situation he had stumbled into.

The pain was far worse than it had been last night. It came as no surprise to him though, waking up in tremendous pain was the usual for outings that ended as poorly as this. It never became any more pleasant, even if Leon’s pain tolerance had increased to some extent over the years. He felt weak, which was no ideal condition to be presenting himself to the Locust representatives. Not that he had a choice, he’d surely be marked a runaway if he didn’t show up. He sighed, his tired mind dully buzzing as though it were roadkill being surrounded by flies.

Leon wished that he had taken pain relievers earlier that night, not that it was likely Kieran had any. Leon was certain that if he did he would’ve taken them himself already, maybe that was a smarter thing to give him to settle their debts then something as small as coffee. He had a medicine cabinet at home with ibuprofen, melatonin, and some other various medications that saw a lot less use. He could just bring some over after his meeting, that would surely be enough to settle any unbalance between what they had done for each other so far. If all ended up going well and it didn’t end with the termination of his employment, that is. He shut his eyes, it was becoming ever clearer that he was in no state to deal with such important business. Just the thought of all of it was making him so very tired. Drowsiness was clouding everything in a vast array of fog now, sensory inputs melting away to the sea of numb and dreamless sleep.

He didn’t get to rest for long though, a rustle of movement caused him to stir slightly, opening his eyes. He groggily registered the sight of Kieran sitting on the floor behind a chair. He much preferred that to another assassin creeping in to slit their throats while they slept, but he still found it very strange. He lifted his head only to be greeted by a cold stab of pain from his back. He gritted his teeth as he lowered his head again, trying to think pragmatically about his injury; if he could still feel it, then it surely couldn’t be that bad. Still, that was quite a bit of pain for such little movement. He heaved a sigh, he knew he really ought to have bedrest in order to recover, but work never waited. It didn’t look like morning quite yet though, and even if that was the best sleep he’d had in ages he didn’t feel particularly well rested. Additionally, his back was in more agony than ever now that he had disturbed it, making lying down an absolute nightmare. The couch wasn’t helping either, however that was something he could admit was definitely on him for choosing.

After trying his best to put up with the pain and go back to sleep for a few minutes, he quickly came to the conclusion that just wasn’t happening. He decided against his better judgement to stand up in hopes that some movement would help with the aching. It was better than lying directly on his spine too, or so he figured. He inched one leg off the side of the couch, and then the other after it. He pushed himself up with his good arm, the air feeling as though it had been sucked out of his lungs as he staggered to his feet, reeling. Immediately it struck him what a poorly thought out decision this had been, briefly shivering. It was worse that Kieran was there; this was a poor time for anyone to see him, but especially a rival assassin like the man in front of him. He took a breath to compose himself, briefly considering getting alcohol from the bar below for some pain relief. He’d even force himself to drink something significantly bitter to make this pain go away. Then he realized how showing up to the rendezvous the next day injured, sleep deprived, and hungover after likely being seen cooperating with a rival assassin was probably a bad idea.

He leaned against the arm of the couch for long enough to steady himself. The pain was subsiding somewhat, although still ever present. The bar would have ice too, if he could get some then he could treat some of his probable bruises. He pushed the thought away yet again, that would just look plain suspicious, plus that bartender would definitely ask questions. He could admit that coming up with excuses was a skill he did not possess, much to the ire of many an unfortunate soul forced to work with him during infiltration-heavy missions. Instead of that, he figured he should check and see just how bad his less immediately alarming injuries were, something he had been avoiding earlier. He’d have to bite the bullet eventually though, better now then later. He shot Kieran another look before quietly speaking.

“I’m just going to take a look at my injuries in the bathroom mirror, I’ll be back,” It was then he noticed the concerning amount of bloodied pieces of gauze, he glanced with his mouth slightly ajar in bafflement between them and Kieran. “Good luck…getting back to sleep?” It was all he could think to follow that up with.

Now that his mind was on it, he really wasn’t sure why Kieran was up either. Not that he cared all that much right now. He took his hand off the arm of the couch and stepped forward, his heart learching in his throat as the world spun around him. He paused to catch his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He opened them again after a few seconds, and continued walking slightly unsteadily across to the bathroom. When he reached it, he fiddled with the light switch to no avail for a moment before giving up. Groaning, he leaned against the doorframe with his head pressed against it. He’d just have to use the light from his flip phone instead, a much more tedious process.

He took another step forward and shut the door, taking his phone out of the pocket of his dress pants and setting it on the edge of the sink. He stared at himself in the dirty mirror for a moment. He knew he’d really have to change before his meeting, he looked like a total wreck. It’d be a lot more suspicious walking down the street covered in blood in the daytime too, he grimaced just from thinking of it. He turned his attention back to the reason he had gone there in the first place: his injuries. He briefly struggled with the botton few buttons of his shirt, it was a pain with only one hand. Then he snatched his phone from it's precarious spot. He didn’t take his shirt off completely – that would be too difficult to work around with his splint – instead he lifted it up just enough to see midway up his back where most of the pain was coming from while still holding his phone. It didn’t look like his spine itself was actually bruised – much to his relief – just his back. The marks still weren’t exactly pleasant though, dark splotches that just the sight of caused him to wince. They definitely seemed swollen too, which was even more unfortunate. There wasn’t much he could do about it right now, so he put away his phone and buttoned his shirt as hastily as he could.

He staggered back over to the couch, sitting down and mopping his brow with his sleeve. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get comfortable again – well, comfortable may have been a strong word to use in this scenario – that night, though if sleep came he certainly wouldn’t be complaining. His main concern was what would come after that, and what the representatives from Locust would make of that night’s horrible display.

Leon was incredibly confused and put off at first by Kieran’s initial words. “We need to talk” very rarely preceded any good information in his experience, and it was an especially harrowing thing to hear now of all times. His words following it settled his nerves briefly, before heightening them again at the thought of having to explain all this to Locust. He glanced away from him briefly to think, wilting even more under Kieran’s gaze. He was right; Leon would have very little excuse for his actions compared to him. Was it even worth it to lie? The thought of it made his gut twist with some sort of inexplicable feeling of guilt. Then again, they might not even kill him. There were other means to keep an assassin in check other than the threat of their own death, after all. Another good motivator to stay distant from normal people other than just organization restrictions was the fact that Locust would use anyone they could sink their claws into as collateral to keep their underlings in place. Leon considered himself grimly lucky in the sense that everyone they could use as leverage over him was long dead now, but he wouldn’t put it past them to find another way. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes briefly.

If he did fabricate some sort of story, what would he say? That he had already disposed of Kieran once he stopped being useful? A claim like that would be easy to disprove with even the slightest bit of digging on Locust’s end. Leon supposed he could claim he tried to kill him and he got away, but if they knew about Kieran’s injuries then they probably wouldn’t believe that either. Then, another idea dawned on him. He could just claim he tried to shoot him back in the building, but because of the dummy bullets he failed and was threatened into cooperating. He was wounded enough to make the idea that he could’ve been overpowered in a skirmish work, too. Leon could claim he just barely got away by the skin of his teeth. All of this would be incredibly shameful to admit to the representatives, but he would rather have his pride wounded than face Locust’s wrath.

He took a deep breath; he would have to tell Kieran about the dummy bullets for this to make any sense at all. Leon knew he didn’t have to bother disclosing this information, especially considering it made him appear more vulnerable, but he supposed he could afford a bit of transparency. They had made it this far without being at each other’s throats, so it wouldn’t do him any good to taint that with overtly curt behaviour.

“I might know one way, but I’m not completely sure they’ll buy it. The rounds in my pistol, they aren’t actually real bullets. Someone loaded it with dummy rounds instead,” He strode over towards his coat and retrieved his pistol, setting it on the table and taking a bullet out of the magazine to show Kieran, holding it up between his thumb and pointer finger. “It’s lighter than a normal bullet, and even more useless than a blank round. At least those actually fire to some extent,” He sounded just as fed up about that fact then he felt, returning the bullet to the magazine quickly.

“I’ll tell them I shot at you but because of their own negligence – or whatever it was that caused them to give me the wrong type of bullet – it didn’t work and I had no choice but to cooperate with you because of my own injuries. I’ll turn it back on their mistakes instead of what I’ve done.”

He didn’t return to the couch, he felt far too antsy despite the pain in his back to sit down. He felt a small pang of surprise as Kieran left to get him the ice. He didn’t have to do that, was it only because he didn't want Leon to be in as much pain? As he came back, Leon stared at him in bewilderment for a few seconds.

“Thank you,” He tried to keep the emotion out of his voice as he accepted the offering.

He held the ice to where he vaguely recalled the worst of the bruises being. He was glad it would lessen the swelling at least, and it might lessen the pain enough for him to get back to sleep.

“That’s fine. I didn’t figure you had any, and I have pain relievers at home anyways,” He paused once again, tempted to make his offer to bring him some in return for his hospitality, but he quickly realized that giving their groups more evidence against them would be doing neither of them any favours.

“I really ought to try and sleep some more. I have a meeting tomorrow, and I’ll likely never hear the end of it for getting injured this badly. I’m just wondering how Baines even knew we were coming, especially for long enough to relay communications with another assassin or group to set that all up. I doubt it was a plot worked out overnight. He’s definitely a crafty one though, I’ll give him that,” He didn’t figure Kieran would have any answers either, but it was probable that they were sharing in that frustration. “Not that it’s likely to put my organization off, either.”

He wasn’t sure if Locust was being paid by a third party to kill him, or if they had their own reasons. Not that they would ever tell him either, that side of business didn’t involve their assassins. Either way he knew for a fact that they weren’t about to give up after one failed attempt, even if it would be more difficult due to Baines now knowing without a doubt that people were after him. Leon would just have to lay low and come up with a new strategy. He'd have to work around his injuries too, lest Locust start getting impatient.