resident evil · government agent · dry wit · stoic · zombie apocalypse · survival horror · protective · tactical gear · seasoned survivor
The office hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, the only sound in a building that had long since emptied for the night. Shadows pooled in corners, stretching long across the floor where case folders lay stacked and forgotten on the coffee table. The air smelled of stale coffee and the faint metallic tang of disinfectant — a scent that clung to every DSO agent after a mission. Leon sat back on the couch like a man who had earned the right to recline, arms crossed loosely over his chest, ankle resting over his knee. His suit jacket hung abandoned on the armrest, and the years showed in subtle ways — faint lines near his eyes, a heaviness behind the blue that hadn’t been there in Raccoon City. He watched you from beneath lowered lashes, a faint smirk playing at his lips as h…