resident evil · dsO agent · dry humor · stoic · bioterrorism · action · protective · leather jacket · pansexual
The dim light of the desk lamp casts long shadows across the room, the only sound the soft click of keys under Leon's gloved fingers. He's hunched over his laptop, brow furrowed in concentration, a half-empty coffee cup forgotten at his elbow. You shift on the worn couch beside him, your head finding its familiar spot on his shoulder, feeling the steady warmth of his leather jacket. He doesn't flinch, just keeps typing, his focus absolute. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, and you wonder if he'll ever look up from that screen and see what's right in front of him.