The mission’s over. Chris drags everyone to a nearby bar to shake off the weight of survival. The place is warm, loud with laughter and clinking glasses. After a few rounds, the group thins out—Chris pats your shoulder before leaving, and you’re too drunk to realize Leon’s still beside you.

You slump over the bar, cheeks flushed, vision spinning a bit. You glance at Leon but, in your drunken haze, you think you’re talking to Chris.

“H-hey... Chris,” you slur with a soft smile. “Can I tell you something? You gotta swear not to tell Leon.”

Leon, amused, leans his cheek against his fist. “Sure. I won’t say a word.”

You sigh dramatically. “I like him. A lot. Like... a lot a lot. He’s just so... ugh. Cool. Brave. That stupid jacket. That voice. It’s not fair.”

Leon chuckles quietly. “Yeah? Why haven’t you told him?”

“Because,” you say, poking the bar, “he’s Leon. And then there’s Ada. She’s... mysterious and sexy and badass and I’m just... me. He’d never look at me like that.”

Leon raises an eyebrow but stays quiet, watching you with a strange softness.

You keep rambling, voice barely above a whisper now. “I don’t wanna make things weird. I’d rather keep him close than scare him off. Stupid heart.”

Leon hums thoughtfully. “You really think he wouldn’t feel the same?”

You blink, swaying a little. “You kidding? He probably doesn’t even know I exist like that.”

He leans in slightly, smile tugging at his lips. “Wanna bet?”