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Normally, Sailor Leo wouldn't be out on his own. Normally, Sailor Leo would be doing anything but patrolling; probably sleeping, his blankets tangled around his legs, arms hugging a pillow tightly to his chest while he drifted through a dream. He wasn't a man who took the initiative to do much unless it was necessary, and any who knew him were well aware of that.

These weren't normal circumstances.

Tristan's brush with death had scared him. To be honest, it had shaken Grayson to his very core -- the thought that he could lose his brother, the most precious person to him, the one he strove to defend above even the princess, was one that nearly stopped his heart. If it hadn't been for Jude, thank God for Jude, he would be an only child. Half of who he was. Because Destiny City wasn't safe, and wouldn't be, as long as people like him, who had the power to shift the balance between good and evil, chose to stay indoors at night, carefully locked away from all that would harm them.

The fear of the night was still fresh, which was likely why he found himself walking the streets. Looking, searching, hoping in equal measures that he found nothing to fear and that he would find and destroy a youma. At the back of his mind, Sailor Leo knew that the truth of the matter was, he felt a little powerless compared to Sagittarius; he felt he owed him, and he was somehow trying to set them even. It didn't make sense, but once he resolved the feelings that plagued him, he was sure he would go back to his old ways.

But the old ways weren't for tonight.

Heels clicking against the pavement, he swung his head from side to side, violet eyes alert, aware. The night was still and quiet, but in the distance, his ears caught a whistle, and he shifted toward it, curious.

Who would be whistling in this part of town?

Whatever Leo had expected, it wasn't an agent of the Negaverse.

His breathing stilled, and unconsciously, he drew himself to his full height; impressive, especially with his elaborate hat catching every stray bit of moonlight, nearly shimmering against the stark backdrop of the snow and the city. Perhaps he had never seen this particular agent before, but there was a knowing, a wrenching in his gut that said chances were, he was standing opposite one of his sworn enemies. Could he be certain? No, not unless he was engaged in battle.

But he had a feeling.

Inclining his head, the move regal, Leo began to step a half-circle about the woman before him. His face was still beneath his mask, but he lifted a hand, a sweeping gesture before him. Grayson Graves would never be so assured, so decidedly pompous in his moves, but Sailor Leo was another matter entirely.

"Good evening," He greeted, voice low and pleasant.

She'd had something in her hand. He suspected a starseed, hoped it was not. Was prepared for the worst.

"What do you have there?"

The brief glimpse was as damning as if he'd held it in his own hands. So this was what lurked on the streets; this was what Sagittarius was fighting while Leo showered, slept.

He placed his hands on his hips, the gesture light, gloves against impossibly luxurious fabric. He tipped his head back a bit, violet eyes glancing down at the roughly handsome woman (because there was no other way to describe her; she was not pretty, certainly not, but she was still female) as he continued to take careful, measured steps around her. He didn't get any closer, simply seemed to be getting a broader angle of her features.

"Uranophane." He tested the name, and finally his mouth bowed into slight distaste. It was still difficult to tell what his actual expression was, considering so much of his face was concealed. It gave him the impression of being much more sophisticated than he really was.

In Leo's costume, he felt much more sophisticated than he really was.

"Sailor Leo, of the Zodiac Guard." He extended a hand to the open air, not nearly close enough for her to take it, and it wasn't in the right position anyway. It was palm up, inviting the sky to settle in his grasp.

He drew his hand back, asked her calmly, "What are you doing tonight, Lieutenant?"

The facade was dropped; it had been too long since he'd been Leo anyhow. He didn't seem to quite remember the steps, and that was all right. What was not all right was that the Lieutenant was apparently stepping into the street and stopping traffic. He frowned, but he was too far away to stop her when the man stepped out of his vehicle. He was still too far away when she slapped him, and his pace quickened when she grabbed him, dragged the innocent and clueless man around in front of her.

Stopping before them, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, Leo waged a brief internal war with himself. Mere moments ago, they had been two beings on opposite sides, both capable of defending as well as attacking, both understanding exactly what the stakes were. Now, the equation had changed, and he could no longer step as surely as he had.

A hostage. Beneath Leo, beneath the confidence he wore as surely as a mask, Grayson's heart stuttered.

"That is a mistake." How he managed to keep his voice calm, he didn't know. He pressed his hands together, glove to glove, almost like a gesture of prayer in front of him.

"We're having a conversation, Lieutenant. Bring that man into this, and it will not end well."

A true enough statement.

Leo had no idea how to deal with a hostage situation.

It cost him, but he couldn't look at the man and couldn't listen to his pleas. This was not the time nor the place to be distracted, and as much as his heart wrenched at the thought of it, the man was a distraction. Right now, he was a very precious distraction, but that didn't change the facts.

His hands were still before him, and he didn't move them quickly. That could be construed as an attack, and he'd be damned if he made a careless move that ended the dance unfavorably. He didn't know what this Uranophane was planning, what she was capable of, but he did know that he was hideously out of his element.

"Are we playing a game, then?" The thought sickened him. "That doesn't seem fair when a life is at stake, Lieutenant."

An innocent life. A man who was simply on his way home, to his wife and children; a man of no consequence to either of them except as a pawn to Uranophane and a precious cargo to Leo.

A man whose life was arguably in Leo's hands, and once again, he found that he didn't know what to do. This was no bumbling encounter with a drunken comrade, this was not patching up wounds with his makeshift kit and hoping to stave off infection. This was something that could potentially be very dangerous, something that could go truly wrong, and he was standing there, mind racing to find the solution and only coming up with the frayed ends of a strategy.

Perhaps it didn't show on his face -- and the mask certainly helped, the mask helped more than anything -- but Leo was beginning to doubt once more.

What could he do? What could he really do in this situation?

His kind? Leo barely knew what his kind was, aside from the Zodiac; wasn't even sure, at times, that he fit in with his own kind. He was lazy and idle, not the man who went charging into battle with enthusiasm and a burning passion for victory. He was irresponsible, more likely to while the day away writing in the pages of a book than walk the streets on patrol. He was a lover, not a fighter; he was a dancer, not a boxer.

He was not a goddamn hostage negotiator.

"We can't talk about this?" The question was useless, merely a means to fill the space while he decided what he would do. There was no negotiating with someone like this, at least not for Leo; even if he wanted to, he didn't have the skills or the knowledge for how to go about it. So, from the moment she'd made the game deadly, he had already known what he would do.

Without any warning, not giving her real time to answer his question, he said evenly, "Radiant Light."

It was instant. Light, impossibly bright and shining, burst from him in a wave, obscuring his form completely from vision. It might have been like looking directly into the sun, except it was night, and this sun was on level with the ground. He didn't have a lot of time - a minute at the most was the duration of his blinding presence - but more than that, he knew the advantage would be fleeting. After all, his attack wasn't really an attack - it didn't do anything except emit bright light. It was up to him for the rest.

So, from the moment the words had passed his lips, he'd been lunging forward, arms outstretched, dignity behind him. His only thought was that he had to knock her off that man, had to separate them.

He had to save that man.

He'd miscalculated.

He didn't have time to blame himself, not yet; he could see the starseed, the sacred essence of life, saw in slow motion a process that only took seconds. Saw it all too clearly, thanks to the light radiating from his face, chest, fingertips, his everything. His heart seized, and in his moment of hesitation, she leapt away.

Her laugh echoed, rebounding in his skull like it had been whispered in his ear. Violet eyes leapt to the man, the light around him fading back into his body, sending the street into darkness once again save for the steady glow of headlights. He cursed under his breath, balled his hand into a fist and pushed off the ground. He was behind her - not substantially, but behind her - and he had to make up for lost time.

Leo didn't run on a regular basis; would never run a marathon. But he found it in him to run, to leap across the rooftops, to grasp the fabric of her clothing and wheel her around. He didn't hesitate, even though it was a female; this female had ripped someone's starseed from his chest. He swung, and even though he wasn't a boxer, he connected with her face, took no joy in the sensation of slamming his fist into her cheekbone.