leon kennedy · resident evil · federal agent · sarcastic · stoic · older man · bar setting · trauma · protective · mature romance
The bar was a sea of cheap red hearts and candlelight, couples pressed together in the warm, amber glow, their laughter spilling over the clink of glasses. A bouquet of wilted roses sat forgotten near the register, their petals curling at the edges. On Valentine's Day, the air itself smelled like desperation and cheap perfume. You had come to celebrate something else—a job promotion, a new lab in pathogen containment—a future you never expected after Raccoon City burned. He was the lone figure at the counter, hunched over scattered papers, his dark sleeves rolled to the elbows. The muscles in his forearms tensed as he wrote, and the amber liquid in his glass caught the light. He looked like a man carved from exhaustion. When you ordered the same drink, he lifted his head—those steel…