I. [Clearly, this is going to be one of those days.
(But if he's completely honest with himself, Leonardo has to admit that his life in general has been a long series of those days since day one, so that's not exactly news.)
As soon as he rounds a corner and finds himself face to face with far too many teeth, he moves, bounding backwards towards the closest building, and grabbing a protruding bit of the doorframe to use as a handhold to start working his way upwards. A few leaps, swings, and pulls upward are enough to get him onto the roof - it's not out of the fire, he's sure, but at least it gives him a few more moments before the frying pan gets too hot to handle.
It could be worse, right? Unlike the last abnormally intimidating animals he's come face to face with, this one looks like it's just hungry, and not like this is personal.
On the other hand, that means he's not the priority target - anyone unlucky enough to cross its path is. And as he crouches at the edge of the roof and scans the street to see if anyone else is still stuck below, he's already expecting that someone will be - because why should anything ever go the easy way?]
III. [This is very, very not Leo's element.
It's nothing he doesn't have a concept of, at least, but also nothing he's ever surrounded himself with or felt a need to. And so the message below the globe, bring someone hope, and you will bring them happiness, is harder to wrap his mind around than he feels like it ought to be - because what's hopeful about a teddy bear or a Hallmark card? Hope is having the people you care about around you, where you can see that they're still in one piece and remember what you have to to do to keep them that way. Hope is having a plan in the face of an overwhelming threat, and knowing that you're ready to do something and not only stand quietly.
And he's sure that Splinter, whose picture is hovering inside that globe, would see things the same way he does.
But put a challenge in front of Leo, and he still feels like he ought to be taking it on, rather than turning away, and so anyone else in the store is met by a strange scene: a five foot turtle in ninja gear, looking dubiously between stuffed foxes and cutesy figurines, apparently pondering these things very deeply as he says to himself -]
Leonardo | TMNT (IDW comics)
[Clearly, this is going to be one of those days.
(But if he's completely honest with himself, Leonardo has to admit that his life in general has been a long series of those days since day one, so that's not exactly news.)
As soon as he rounds a corner and finds himself face to face with far too many teeth, he moves, bounding backwards towards the closest building, and grabbing a protruding bit of the doorframe to use as a handhold to start working his way upwards. A few leaps, swings, and pulls upward are enough to get him onto the roof - it's not out of the fire, he's sure, but at least it gives him a few more moments before the frying pan gets too hot to handle.
It could be worse, right? Unlike the last abnormally intimidating animals he's come face to face with, this one looks like it's just hungry, and not like this is personal.
On the other hand, that means he's not the priority target - anyone unlucky enough to cross its path is. And as he crouches at the edge of the roof and scans the street to see if anyone else is still stuck below, he's already expecting that someone will be - because why should anything ever go the easy way?]
III.
[This is very, very not Leo's element.
It's nothing he doesn't have a concept of, at least, but also nothing he's ever surrounded himself with or felt a need to. And so the message below the globe, bring someone hope, and you will bring them happiness, is harder to wrap his mind around than he feels like it ought to be - because what's hopeful about a teddy bear or a Hallmark card? Hope is having the people you care about around you, where you can see that they're still in one piece and remember what you have to to do to keep them that way. Hope is having a plan in the face of an overwhelming threat, and knowing that you're ready to do something and not only stand quietly.
And he's sure that Splinter, whose picture is hovering inside that globe, would see things the same way he does.
But put a challenge in front of Leo, and he still feels like he ought to be taking it on, rather than turning away, and so anyone else in the store is met by a strange scene: a five foot turtle in ninja gear, looking dubiously between stuffed foxes and cutesy figurines, apparently pondering these things very deeply as he says to himself -]
There must be something better than this.