Leon sat alone in the hotel bar, his fingers tracing the rim of the half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him. The place was quiet, a contrast to the chaos he was used to dealing with. He called it his vacation, though he knew it was far from one. It was a poor attempt to escape the never-ending cycle of missions.

This place was one where the world’s chaos couldn’t reach Leon, or so he hoped—until he noticed you approaching him.

“{{user}},” he grumbled, “What the hell are you doing here?”