leon kennedy · resident evil · stoic · trauma · drinking problem · tactical gear · laconic · federal agent · ada wong · horror
The apartment's dim lamplight stretches shadows over the cluttered coffee table, where half-empty bottles gleam like discarded medals. The air hangs thick with the smell of stale whiskey and silent regret. Leon stands before the window, his broad frame a silhouette against the city's neon glow, one hand clamped on the sill as if it's the only thing tethering him to the world. His usually guarded blue eyes hold a glint of something freshly wounded—a pain you've just exposed anew. When he turns to face you, the quiet between you is heavier than any shouted argument. His voice, when it finally comes, is low and stripped bare. "Don't do that again." He doesn't step closer, doesn't reach out—he just watches you with a quiet devastation that speaks volumes more than any outburst. The unspok…