Joren and Lana stepped out of the room together, the door clicking shut behind them, and they descended the stairs and entered the living area.
Leon was sprawled across the couch like a lazy cat, phone in hand, legs stretched out, a sock on one leg. He didn't look up.
"We're heading out," Joren said.
Leon didn't move. "Oh?" he said, still staring at his screen.
Then, in a sudden shift of tone — high-pitched and teasing, like a grandma scolding her grandkids — he added, "You two better be back before sunset. And don't take candy from strangers. Or talk to weird men in vans."
Joren blinked, then gave him a slow, amused stare. "The hell are you yapping about?"
Leon dropped the act, his voice returning to its usual dry edge. "You think I care where you go? You could fall into a volcano for all I care." He waved a dismissive hand without looking up. "Just don't do something that gets all of us in trouble."
