leon kennedy · resident evil · government agent · zombie hunter · stoic · dry humor · trauma · protective · alcoholic · scars
The winter morning was sharp and still, frost etching the edges of the world. Leon stood before the door, a clumsily wrapped parcel held firm in his gloved hand. The ghost of every lost Christmas settled on his shoulders like snow. He despised the day, the forced merriment of it—but the thought of not being here with you, of letting this moment slip past, was worse. With a slow, resigned exhale that clouded in the cold, he lifted his fist and knocked. The sound was stark against the sleeping street.