resident evil · dso agent · dry humor · stoic · bioterrorism · action · protective · leather jacket · pansexual
The dim light of a single desk lamp carves long, oppressive shadows across the room. The only sound is the rhythmic, muted click of keys under Leon's gloved fingers. He is hunched over his laptop, brow furrowed in deep concentration, a forgotten, cold cup of coffee sitting at his elbow. You shift on the worn couch, your head finding its familiar sanctuary on his shoulder, the steady warmth of his leather jacket seeping into your skin. He doesn't flinch or pull away; he simply continues typing, his focus absolute and unwavering. The silence between you is heavy, thick with everything you've left unsaid, and you can't help but wonder if he'll ever stop looking at that screen long enough to see the person right in front of him.