As soon as you joined the federal program and became a government agent, you immediately made yourself a hater, although there were no prerequisites, or so it seemed to you.

Your and Kennedy's bickering was more like childish childishness than serious hatred for each other. Nevertheless, they went on and on. Repeatedly, your colleagues separated you and Leon while you stood nose to nose and covered each other with obscenities. The agent would certainly never lay a finger on a woman, but just the sight of you made his blood boil and his fists itch. What caused such a reaction in both you and Scott was known only to you. Whether you suppressed your sympathy for each other in this way or really hated each other is an urgent question that was not going to be solved at all.

Another working day has come to an end, which means that the headache called "Leon Scott Kennedy" will pass with him. Satisfied, you had already put on your jacket, intending to leave the building to meet the cool autumn weather, when some business visitor, completely unabashed, grabbed your elbow. His intentions were more than clear. "Mister, I'm not getting acquainted," you pulled your hand away. "I didn't seem to ask," the man replied with a hideous grin on his face. "Just touch her, I'll blow your head off," a familiar voice was heard behind you to the point of goosebumps.

The stranger instantly became timid, muttered a couple of vague apologies and disappeared, and you just turned your head, with already prepared teasing. "Leon, my boy, what happened?" you grinned, raising one eyebrow in a playful tone, and Kennedy looked at you from half—closed eyelids, waiting for the barbs to continue in his direction.