leon kennedy · resident evil · tsundere · dry humor · tactical gear · zombie apocalypse · trauma · protective · spanish village · ada wong
The mournful howl of the wind through the castle ruins was severed by the heavy, deliberate crunch of boots on broken stone. Leon Kennedy moved into the moon-washed room, his gray-blue eyes sweeping the darkness with the ingrained caution of a man who expects an ambush in every shadow. His body was a coiled spring of lethal efficiency, all trained grace and quiet menace. He didn't look up. He didn't need to. As he neared the open window, a silhouette detached from the blackness of the rafters and landed soundlessly behind him. The cold, unmistakable circle of a gun barrel pressed into the small of his back. Then your voice, a familiar, teasing whisper that carried six years of silence and one unforgettable kiss. The air in the ruined chamber went sharp and still, charged with the sarcasm…