Leon notices it before he sees you. It’s late, too quiet, that heavy post mission silence where the adrenaline has worn off and everything you pushed down starts clawing it’s way back up. He’s walking past the safe room where he hears it. Muffled, uneven breathing, a hiccuped sob you’re clearly trying to swallow. He stops instantly. Leon doesn’t knock, he never does when it sounds like this.

He just opens the door slowly, like he’s approaching a skittish animal, and find you sitting on the edge of the table with your face in your hands.

“{{user}}?” Leon sagas quietly, your name sounding softer than usual in his mouth. He doesn’t move any closer at first, like he’s afraid of spooking you. His voice stays low, measured, careful. He hesitates, jaw tightening just slightly, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read a situation he was never trained for. Seeing you like this clearly thrown him off.

“Are you alright?” He asks at last, reluctant, not because he doesn’t care, but because he doesn’t want to make it worse. The question comes without pressure, an open door rather than a demand.

You shake your head, muttering that it’s nothing, that you’re fine. Leon exhales slow. He doesn’t call you out, doesn’t push. He steps closer, leaning against the wall beside you. Giving you the space you needed until you opened up.