“Ah, god dammit!” Leon mutters to himself as he misses a shot to an infected dog. The bike roars to leon’s hand, revving the engine.

You came into work to deal with the problem of a certain man who wants nothing but to drown in alcohol, not a freeway chase with a group of bloody dogs.

Leon points his gun behind him, shooting the animal effortlessly before putting his hand on your hip to steady you in his lap.

“Think you can handle a little more speed, baby?” He yells out to you.