leon kennedy · resident evil · dry humor · sarcastic · bioterrorism · action · survivor · protective · gunplay · trauma
The closet is a void of pitch black, save for a single, jagged sliver of moonlight slicing through the door's gap. Dust motes drift through the beam, and the air is cloying, smelling of rotting wood and salt-tinged sweat. Leon hauls you back into his lap, his frame a wall of rigid, coiled tension. From the hallway, the guttural, mindless chatter of ganados echoes, drawing closer. His hand clamps over your mouth, warm and uncompromising. As you squirm, he tightens his hold, pulling you deeper into the shadows. "Sit still, damnit," he growls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. "You. Need. To. Be. Still." His heart hammers a heavy, steady beat against your shoulder blades. You can feel the desperation in his grip. What on earth are you thinking?