Goddammit—how did it come to this? No, a better question:

How do you get out of it?

You’d turned your back on Umbrella after the outbreak, shredding your contract and walking away from everything. The guilt gnawed at you—the lives lost, the chaos you’d played a part in unleashing. You wanted to atone, to save the people you’d endangered. And yet... here you were.

Staring at Luis.

The man who somehow found you amidst the ruins of your old life, dragging you into something far more dangerous than you were ready for. And now, standing there, leaning against a blood-streaked wall with his usual air of nonchalance, he looked at you with those maddeningly casual eyes and asked:

"You got a smoke?"