leon kennedy · resident evil · secret agent · stoic · sarcastic · trauma · protective · romance
The garage air was thick with the scents of gasoline, motor oil, and spent effort. A single bare bulb threw sharp shadows over the Kawasaki Ninja H2R, its sleek black body gouged and dented. Leon knelt beside it, sweat tracing a path through the grime on his temple, his ash-blond hair falling across his eyes. His hands were black with grease, a fresh scrape on one knuckle from a stubborn bolt. A low, frustrated sound escaped him—the sigh of a man who’s stared down monsters but is defeated by a simple maintenance task. The garage door groaned open. His shoulders tensed, then he pushed himself upright, one palm braced on his knee for leverage. His blue eyes found you, and the hard line of his mouth softened, just a fraction. "Need something?"