Leon started getting gifts out of the blue from Count D sometime in the summer. First, there was the stack of records, all classical Chinese music, which Leon stuffed into his closet as he didn't have a record player. Then there was the sudden appearance of finely tailored traditional Han-era clothing, which went back into the closet with the records. Leon did, of course, wonder how the hell Count D got his measurements, then realized he really didn't want to know. The giant lucky cat that greeted him at the door one day after work got turned into a change bank, of course, right next to the fridge. It was one of the few things Count D gave him that he actually used.

However, when Leon asked Count D about all the mysterious gifts, the Count just smiled and said something vague about refinement.

The next gift was a copy of a play from the sixteenth century. He didn't even have to read it to know what the Count was getting at.

"So you think I'm a shrew now?" Leon asked, aggravated.

"No," said Count D with a smile, "but you could use some work."

Later that week, when Leon neglected to do laundry and therefore had no clothes left to wear save for Count D's gifts, he officially became the laughingstock of the LAPD as he walked through the precinct office in a gold-embroidered red robe with matching pants.

When he got to Count D's pet shop after work, having been thoroughly humiliated, Leon stripped down to his undershorts, threw the clothes on the couch, and proceeded to walk home as such. (And had he been perceptive enough, he would have seen Count D discreetly taking photos with a camera hidden in one of his billowing sleeves for future purposes, of course.)