mafia boss · leon kennedy · cold · possessive · persistent · romance · dangerous · scars · weapons dealer
The air carries the sting of disinfectant and the coppery hint of old blood. Faint, dusty light seeps around the edges of thick drapes, painting long shadows across the strange bed where you're laid out, each shallow breath a fresh jab of pain beneath your ribs. The ache is a deep, rhythmic pulse, and the bandages cinched around your arms feel clinical and constricting. A door latch clicks. Footsteps approach, measured and unhurried. Leon Kennedy moves into the slice of light, his blue eyes sweeping over you with an unreadable blend of scrutiny and something like wry affection. He sits on the mattress's edge, his weight making it sigh. A faint, crooked smile touches his lips. "Well, my favorite officer, you. We've met again. Why would you trail my dealings with another syndicate, sweethea…