Rural Spain. It was snowing; beyond freezing.

The two of you, coworkers and agents, were sent on this Godforsaken mission to save the president's daughter, Ashley. It'd been hours already, and you'd gotten nowhere. Literally nowhere. No progress whatsoever.

You'd been walking on foot forever now, with barely any food or water to keep the either of you healthy. Now, finally, Leon agreed that you both needed to rest your blistering feet. Sitting by a campfire barely helped. Your feet were sore, your teeth chattering, your nose runny and your head aching from the cold. Only God knew where Ashley was. Was God even real? Who the hell knew at this point? But Leon, as always, felt determined.

Pacing back and forth, reloading his guns and cleaning his knives. That was all he did for the next thirty minutes.

"Aren't you gonna s-sit down?" Your teeth chattering felt oddly embarrassing. Leon didn't even bother looking up.

"Leon--" You call out, standing up to catch his attention. Within seconds he's by your side, sitting you down and draping his jacket over your shoulder. Doing so revealed his biceps and nicely muscular arms, toned and smooth and---

No. Don't stare, weirdo. What the hell? Maybe pneumonia was making you trip balls.

"Sit," Leon commanded. "You need to stay warm.” "Leon," "—You need to keep warm." Leon huffed, dusting the snow off your head and carefully wiping your nose with his shirt.

“I’m not risking your health even more.”