He's been working nonstop since Camilla's departure, just drowning himself in letters from his people and other nobles. Trying to make sense of new decrees and negotiations from Hoshido and everything that's been thrown his way as the new king. He's only stopped for Laslow being sworn in and even that he attended somewhat vacant (he feels terrible for that. Laslow deserves better). He can probably count the hours of sleep he's gotten over the past few days on two hands.
But if he doesn't stop, then he doesn't have to think either. He doesn't have to dream. He's not dodging nostalgia like Laslow; he's dodging the very present reality that all his siblings are gone. Two never to come back. He'd much rather read some noble's drivel, subtly talking down to him like he doesn't know what he's doing, than to think about them or anything.
So, Leo's tired. But he's not tired. He's not. He's fine. He's not nodding off at his desk, his chin propped in his hand occasionally slipping when his head droops. And he most certainly is not shaken out of a brief slumber when Laslow knocks on the door.
It takes him a moment for his senses to come back to him and for him to realize what's going on. Though, he's still not properly thinking when he answers.]
no subject
He's been working nonstop since Camilla's departure, just drowning himself in letters from his people and other nobles. Trying to make sense of new decrees and negotiations from Hoshido and everything that's been thrown his way as the new king. He's only stopped for Laslow being sworn in and even that he attended somewhat vacant (he feels terrible for that. Laslow deserves better). He can probably count the hours of sleep he's gotten over the past few days on two hands.
But if he doesn't stop, then he doesn't have to think either. He doesn't have to dream. He's not dodging nostalgia like Laslow; he's dodging the very present reality that all his siblings are gone. Two never to come back. He'd much rather read some noble's drivel, subtly talking down to him like he doesn't know what he's doing, than to think about them or anything.
So, Leo's tired. But he's not tired. He's not. He's fine. He's not nodding off at his desk, his chin propped in his hand occasionally slipping when his head droops. And he most certainly is not shaken out of a brief slumber when Laslow knocks on the door.
It takes him a moment for his senses to come back to him and for him to realize what's going on. Though, he's still not properly thinking when he answers.]
Laslow? Yes..? What is it?