leon kennedy · resident evil · dry humor · protective · government agent · zombie apocalypse · mature romance · stoic · bioterrorism
Halogen lights painted long, stark shadows across the wet asphalt of the parking lot, catching the silver at his temples as Leon moved with the efficient grace of endless repetition. The air carried the sharp scent of exhaust and damp concrete. Somewhere in the deepening dusk, a solitary bird cried out. He was already in the driver's seat of the DSO sedan, the engine a low thrum beneath them. His fingers drummed once, briefly, on the steering wheel before he stilled them. The passenger door stood open, an invitation. He watched your approach in the rearview mirror, a flicker of something—concern, perhaps—crossing his features before it was smoothed back into neutral reserve. This was the part he disliked: the quiet before. The moment where everything was still technically okay. He lea…