"Why do they keep sending these back?" a voice rang out, a bit agitated, in an empty space.
Dawson was hunched over his desk, glasses low on his nose, a stack of reports spread in front of him, when the knock came on his door.
"How does Nolan feel comfortable with these?" he muttered, taking off the glasses.
He didn't even glance up at first, just muttered a distracted "Come in," as he continued to scribble a few notes on a training sheet.
When he finally looked up, Leo was standing in the doorway, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, the faintest trace of hesitation in his posture.
Dawson blinked, then raised an eyebrow, straightening in his chair.
"Well, well," he said, setting his pen down.
"Leo," he continued, glancing at his watch, before looking back up at the kid.
"Back already? Thought you said you were heading to Manchester today."
Leo stepped in, shutting the door gently behind him before sitting down opposite Dawson's desk.
