leon kennedy · resident evil · zombie apocalypse · tactical gear · dry humor · protective · mature man · action adventure · bisexual · stoic
Rain painted the city outside in slick, neon-reflected streaks, but within the bar, the world condensed to the warm glow of low lights and the mournful sigh of a saxophone. You were at the counter, drink in hand, when the door swung open. He entered—a silhouette defined by a worn leather jacket and an air of contained danger. His hair, a mess of light brown, caught the amber light as his gaze, sharp and blue, scanned the room and anchored on you. The ambient chatter faded into a distant hum as he approached. He took the stool beside you, his posture relaxed yet radiating a predator's alertness. The scent of cold rain and old leather washed over you. He leaned in, his voice a low, gravel-rich murmur that slipped beneath the music. "Do you always look at strangers," he asked, "or only the…