The call was from Mark.
At the time, Leon was floating outside the back door of some restaurant. Below him, several burly men were knocking on the door—no, smashing it.
"A door that won't open for you shouldn't be knocked on so persistently. It's rude."
The man smashing the door and the few people behind him, laughing wildly and recklessly, were using crude, vulgar language to taunt whoever was hiding inside like cats toying with mice. Leon figured the person inside might end up traumatized after this. Besides, Leon was a door lover. Seeing someone treat an innocent back door so violently was simply unbearable!
They had probably either drunk too much or smoked too much. Seeing someone descend from the sky in the middle of the night, they were not scared in the slightest.
"Oh! Look, we've got a... hero here to save the damsel!"
The leading white brute walked over with a grin, stopping in front of Leon.
His friends laughed and shouted as they surrounded Leon.
"Why are you wearing a mask, kid? Think you're too ugly and afraid of scaring me? Hahahahaha!"
People with no class could only tell tasteless jokes. Those jokes usually were not funny, but thanks to the speaker's status or strength, there was never any shortage of bootlickers.
Like the little punks surrounding Leon.
"Yeah, yeah." Leon hung his head dejectedly. "Forget you guys. Even I get scared when I take off the mask."
Perhaps Leon's hands-in-his-pockets, utterly calm demeanor made the leader uncertain. Or perhaps the constantly shifting inkblots on Rorschach's Mask frightened him. The brute stopped laughing like an idiot, at least in Leon's opinion.
If someone had even basic judgment and knew how to read the situation, he would not have ended up as a street punk.
Maybe he