Their circling continues, neither one of them yielding enough of an opening to attack yet, neither one of them willing to waste energy on an unnecessary movement, an attack that won't scratch this itch that keeps getting harder and harder to ignore.

That smile on Krauser's face makes Leon wonder if rising to his bait had been the right move. Twists at something buried deep. Of old sentiments tangled up in memories of taping up bloodied knuckles and sweeping up pulverized drywall. These memories don't serve him anything but distractions, that life, the people they were back then? That's all gone.

"Punishment?" Leon narrows his eyes against the stinging sweat that keeps trying to climb into them, doesn't dare to drag his knuckles across his brow when the wrong flinch would make an opening for a man who is, himself, a whole damn arsenal. "More like a tasteless joke. No one's gonna laugh at this punchline."