[Oh, he's yelling. Of course he's yelling. That one is actually nostalgic, and D can't help but fix Leon with a simpering half-smirk and hold up his hands - one with difficulty, stop - to defend his innocence. All the while that uncomfortable feeling has settled in his chest again, a dull presence like a hook he can ignore until Leon is somewhere in his periphery. Or worse: right in front of him and shouting.

At least D can sleep well at night knowing that despite all their time apart, Leon hasn't managed to get much more intuitive. He's right about one thing -- D knows exactly how long this has been going on. The rest is treading into murkier waters, that make his faux-saccharine smile settle into something thinner. Leon's tone, this time -- this is uncomfortable.]

If you recall... Officer, [are you still a detective??] I did make it abundantly clear that you were not to follow me.

[That's going to go over well, he knows. But avoidance leads nowhere, especially not toward thinking things through, and so he doesn't know what to do right now but push back. He glances at Leon's hand this time, meaningfully.]

You are wrinkling my sleeve.