#{/POPSHI SHOULD ABSOLUTELY DYE HIS HAIR. he wouldnt like it.... at all. but he should do it}

[blindedguilt]

"We should dye your hair. It looks so dull! Let's make it vibrant!" He's already preparing the dye... or his method of dyeing.

Work was difficult on those days Leonard couldn't often muster up the motivation to do anything. It had been a long, tiresome, gruesome day, and beyond the regrets and wishes for death which so frequently plagued his mind on those darker days, the desire for sleep had stayed the most prominent. Leonard, whose nerves and patience normally ran thick as steel, had found themselves surprisingly short seeing Popshi on the other side of his flat door. Had he been in any more of a foul mood, he would have been honest with himself: Didn't this man have anything better to do...? Most days, he could tolerate Popshi, at times he didn't even mind him. Now was not one such time, and while it should have been evident in the slight tightening of Leonard's jaw listening to the other's excited greeting - in one ear and out the other - his humanity had (for better or for worse) remained intact to the point of silent resignation at whatever plans Popshi would undoubtedly end up springing on the other with each step further into his own home. What would it be this time? It exhausted him just thinking about it. Would he have taken the liberty to redecorate the kitchen? Get rid of all the doors? Filled the fridge with Pepsi and god-knows-what-else? He had hoped, but seriously doubted his reluctance to nod along as he normally had would get through to the other, as Leonard had still heard his voice after collapsing on the couch. It seemed his desperate attempt at "Ignore him, and he'll go away" wasn't working. Yet, without the gall or energy to be direct and risk offence (Which undoubtedly would become a whole hell of its own) and no other choice left to him, Leonard simply remained still, and found himself slowly drifting into a half-slumber... ...One arm dangled off the couch, and the other covered over his eyes. For the past fifty minutes, perhaps, Leonard had laid still as a corpse, having stayed so still it would have almost been a concern... If not for the way he so jarringly shot to life at the words "Dye" and "Hair" spoken directly above him. Perhaps the first thing Popshi had heard from him since his return was the gasp for air that was as if the poor man had been woken from a nightmare, a hand raised and run through his hair in temporary bewilderment before he turned to look towards the source of the voice with shock - his hair was still blond. It was still safe. Popshi, however... He wanted to apologise. He really did, and after all was done and past, he most likely would. But unfortunately for poor Popshi, Leonard's patience had finally run out. Without a word, Leonard swung his partially numbed legs from the couch and stood. Popshi was seized by the back of the collar. Perhaps a bit too rough than what he intended, but of little concern in the moment as the poor thing was dragged from the small and humble living room, through the entrance, and finally was near tossed into the hall - Leonard hadn't been brutish in his strength, but certainly direct as his tone as the door slammed shut and the sound of a lock was heard behind it, paired with a string of no more than three, simple words: "Leave. Please go." Take of it what he would, Leonard at least sounded tired and exasperated enough to convey that it was nothing personal - Popshi could only be left to hope and pray it would remain that way once the exhausted mechanic made way to clean up after his concocted "dye".