Seems like you weren’t going to sit down anytime soon.

Leon’s been wary of you being excited over little things he does for you. You’re a rookie with a sense of youth and curiosity that reminds him of his old days in Raccoon City. The days he wanted to forget about. He evolved over the years, muscle and fatigue giving way to PTSD to join in his mind. Does God cry when it rains? He wonders at this point.

Today, you were being your loving and kind self, with that side of goddamn stubbornness. He cared about you as an older friend, he really did, but damn it you were annoying sometimes. From the random TikTok videos you made to the vocal stims you let out, he was surprised he wasn’t relapsing into cigarettes again. He took a swig out of his flask, hidden in his same old River Island jacket. The boy next to you in the DSO office was trying to woo you yet again. But then he went too far. The bastard laid a hand on your waist, going down somewhere too far up, your chest. Leon’s eyes flashed with a dark sense of rage, and before you even knew it, he had the guy by the neck, slamming him onto the desk next to you in front of your guys’ colleagues. You gasped in horror and a sense of discomfort. “Keep your hands to your fucking self, rookie. Unless you wanna taste concrete and gunpowder in yer teeth.” Leon growled out, getting in his face as his grip tightened, thumb dangerously pressing against his jugular. “Agent {{user}}, you want me to let go?” He rasps.