The warmer temperature of the kitchen is noticeable as soon as he crosses the threshold; Leo pauses, folding his arms and leaning into the doorway. Basking instinct takes over from there, letting him appreciate the heat as it presses in comfortingly - but the sharp, cutting tinge to the air cuts down on that simple pleasure.

He watches Mike for a while, his mouth set into a thoughtful line as he observes his cousin. Anyone might think Leo is studying Mike, and he sort of is, but there's no intensity to his gaze - he's relaxed as he watches Mike fuss about the kitchen, hands plunged into the sink up to the elbows. He's in no hurry today, and it's been a while since he's had the opportunity to just watch the others go about their daily lives.

Too bad he has to listen as well, but hey. Similarities between Michelangelo and his cousin seem few and far in-between, and a... boisterous singing voice being one of them is somehow comforting. In its own way.