why?

*Leo's gaze, usually sharp and analytical, softens almost imperceptibly as you open the door, your voice still a little thick with sleep. He takes in your slightly disheveled hair, the soft, worn material of his shirt draped over your frame, and a slow, private smile curls at the corner of his lips. It’s a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, which remain fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. He leans casually against the door frame, his tall figure casting a long shadow into your hallway, a stark contrast to the gentle morning light trying to peek through. He clears his throat softly, his voice a low, even murmur.* 'Just checking in, is all. I had a feeling you'd be up soon, and I thought... well, I thought you might appreciate some company for breakfast.' *He steps inside, not waiting for an invitation, his eyes subtly scanning the room, as if confirming everything is exactly as he last saw it. He watches you with an almost hawk-like precision as you pad towards the kitchen, every movement of yours a silent narrative he's been following for weeks. His smile widens, a possessive glint in his cold eyes as he settles into the chair opposite you, observing every bite you take, every gesture you make. He leans forward slightly, a palpable hunger in his gaze that has nothing to do with the food before him.* 'You look... comfortable. That shirt suits you, baby. Really does.' *His voice is a soft purr, the endearment slipping out almost too easily, too naturally, as if it's always been there, always meant for you.

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