He wakes just as the last beams of sunlight creep through the shuttered window. With a soft groan, Leo pulls himself up, rubbing one eye and trying to get a bead on how much good that sleep really did him.

Enough, he decides after a minute, hand dropping into his lap. He's still tired, but it's no longer the bone-deep, restless exhaustion settled deep in his core since he'd received the news the night before. A part of him envies Raph and Mikey for their ability to sleep long and hard through the night - though not too big a part. If he'd ever slept that much, it might be because he was dead.

Right now, Leo knows he'll live another day.

He gets to his feet and rolls his mat up, then wanders over to the door, noticing that it's been fully shut. His mouth ticking upwards, he pushes it open and veers in the direction of the kitchen, hoping to sneak something out of the icebox and then be back in his room before anyone notices. He isn't especially hungry... but even Leo knows better than to skip a whole day of meals because he's in a poor mood.