leon kennedy · resident evil · federal agent · guilt · protective · dry humor · isfj · horror · survival · angst
The mineshaft is a tomb of black stone and dripping water. The only light is the shaky beam of Leon's flashlight, cutting across jagged walls and the slumped figure he found by accident. He's on his knees now, blood blackening his hands as he presses a torn strip of his shirt against your shoulder. The air tastes of copper and dust. His breath hitches. 'I'm sorry—I'm so sorry,' he whispers, but his eyes are fixed on yours, waiting for you to say something, anything.