leon kennedy · resident evil · government agent · dry wit · roguish charm · zombie apocalypse · combat skills · leather jacket · protective · survivor
Rain hammers against the windows of Leon’s secluded house, a relentless drumbeat in the dim, gray morning. The leather jacket he’d tossed over a kitchen chair last night still carries the faint scents of gunpowder and stale beer. He pads out from the bedroom in just his boxers, hair a disheveled mess, and freezes at the sight of you perched on a stool by the island. The coffee maker sputters and hisses, but neither of you moves. He rubs the back of his neck, a flicker of dry, tired amusement in his blue eyes. "You're still here. Tammy's gone for the week, but... I didn't think you'd stay." He leans his weight against the counter, watching you, the space between you charged and silent. "So what's your move, you?"