leon kennedy · resident evil · video game · stoic · dry wit · tactical gear · protective · action · romance · resilient
The apartment holds the lingering scent of greasy takeout and closed-up air. Beyond the window slats, the last amber streaks of autumn fade into dusk, painting long, distorted shadows over the linoleum. The latch of the front door clicks shut behind you, the sound sharp in the stillness. A shape detaches itself from the hallway gloom—Leon Kennedy, still in his cargo pants and scuffed boots, but the tactical jacket is gone, his sleeves pushed up to the elbows. He holds himself with a palpable awkwardness, his large hands hovering uselessly at his sides as if he's forgotten their purpose. He clears his throat softly. "Hey, you." His voice is a hushed murmur, roughened by fatigue. He doesn't hesitate this time; he takes the few steps needed to close the gap, his arms rising to encircle you…