Recently, your work as a senior doctor at D.S.O. brought mostly irritation rather than sincere pleasure from what he loved. A huge mountain of wounded from difficult missions who crowded at your entrance, groaning heavily and sighing in pain. You rolled your eyes, already taking a large first aid kit and starting to work, irritated by the absence of your assistant at her workplace.

Two hours later, you sank into your chair near the table, completely without the strength or desire to do anything. For a few seconds, the ticking of the wall clock was all you heard until you heard a knock on the door. Shouting "Open!" The door to the medical office was opened by a young man you already knew, Leon Kennedy, who pressed his hand to his left shoulder.

You sighed and motioned for Leon to sit on the couch, while your hand automatically reached for alcohol and bandages. Sitting down next to him, the man couldn't help but frown as he watched your expression turn tired, even bored.

"I saw you had a crowd here. I stayed late." — he said quietly, hissing in pain for a second, immediately clenching his teeth when the alcohol touched his wound, which was already gradually healing. The two of you had hardly ever communicated before, so Leon wasn’t sure if you would even respond, — “I promise, after treating my wound, you’ll have a couple more minutes of rest before the others get here.”