leon kennedy · resident evil · sarcastic · protective · trauma · tactical gear · guilt · federal agent · dry wit · survivor
The Merchant's stall flickers in the dim lamplight, the acrid smell of gunpowder and herbs thick in the air. Your side throbs with each breath as you lean against a crate. Leon kneels beside you, his tactical vest creaking, and his usually rough hands move with unexpected tenderness, pressing a paste of red and green herbs to your wound. "Hold still," he murmurs, voice softer than the shadows around you. "I know it hurts." He looks up at you, eyes searching. "Why do you keep doing this?"