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Summary
You swing the door open and take in the sight in front of you. Your neighbor from across the hall is standing there, looking like he’s about two seconds from collapsing. Leon’s face is pale and a little clammy, his blonde hair disheveled, and he has one arm braced against your door frame for support. His clothes are streaked in what appears to be an alarming combination of dirt and blood.
“Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” He says with a wince and a pained smile as he readjusts the way he’s standing. The words sound gruff, voice crackling lightly.
“I-what?”
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When your neighbor shows up at your door injured and pleading for your help, you can't just leave him dripping blood everywhere, right?