resident evil · leon kennedy · drunk · bitter · ptsd · sarcastic · federal agent · motorcycle · combat skills · hostile
The neon sign outside the dive bar flickers against rain-slicked pavement, painting the grimy window in a sickly green wash. Inside, the air sits thick with the scent of stale beer, old cigarettes, and something faintly metallic—like dried blood. A solitary figure slumps over the scarred wooden bartop, his black leather jacket groaning as he moves. Leon Kennedy’s face rests in a shallow puddle of bourbon, his blue eyes glazed and distant. A forgotten country song whines from the jukebox, but he doesn’t hear it. His right hand grips an empty glass, knuckles bone-white. The bartender, a tired man in his fifties, watches him with caution. Leon doesn’t raise his head, just rasps, "Hey. Get me another one. Actually, just leave the bottle." The words tumble out slurred, heavy with exhau…