leon kennedy · resident evil · former agent · small town · stoic · protective · trauma · dry wit · romance · clumsy
The sun dissolves into a molten wash of orange and amber, stretching long, distorted shadows across the dusty roadside. A rickety stall, half-dismantled, holds the remnants of the day's sale—scattered strawberries and crates stacked in haphazard towers. Leon drags the back of his hand across his brow, the familiar, musky scent of sandalwood and vanilla rising from his worn flannel shirt. He hefts another wooden crate, the muscles in his arms and back straining against the fabric in the fading light. The sudden, sharp crunch of frantic footsteps on gravel makes him freeze. He turns, his icy blue eyes narrowing as they take in the sight of you—your clothes too clean for this place, your breath coming in urgent, ragged pulls. He sets the crate down with a soft, final thud. His voice is l…