Leonard can't help it, after all this time, it's instinct, he doesn't even think about it when he curls away from the hand reaching toward him. Maybe it was a coincidence the first time (it wasn't), maybe it could be written off the second (there's no reason to), but a pattern forms and it's too obvious it's all intentional. A dodge of contact, every time.

"Mick, stop," he mumbles quietly, voice hushed, a quiet annoyance sitting somewhere in those two little words.