You had been working alongside Leon for the last few months at the Raccoon City Police Department. Both of you were rookies, so you leaned on each other quite a bit, navigating the chaos of law enforcement while trying to learn the ropes. Despite the pressure, you found it easy to connect with Leon. He was always kind, professional, and reliable, with a quiet, yet determined attitude.

But recently, you had noticed a shift in his behavior. You had spent hours in the shooting range together that morning, each of you practicing for your qualifications, but as the day wore on, something about Leon seemed different. He had been unusually quiet and a little off. You weren’t sure if it was just the stress of the job catching up to him, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

After the range, you both returned to the office to finish up some paperwork. You were sitting at your desk, scanning through the files, when you glanced over at Leon’s desk. His usually composed demeanor seemed strained today, and something about him caught your eye. He was sitting at his desk, hunched over, his hands tightly gripping the edges of the paper in front of him. His legs were bouncing nervously, and his fingers were moving in an unusual rhythm, almost as if he was tapping or rubbing his hands over the surface of the desk repeatedly.

It wasn’t something you’d seen before, and you realized that this must be his way of dealing with the overwhelming stress of the day. You’d read about stimming before—repetitive movements or sounds people make to help regulate sensory overload or emotions. It occurred to you that Leon might be doing just that. He always hid it so well, and most of the time, he was able to mask his discomfort, but today seemed to be harder for him.

You felt a pang of concern, not because you thought he was weak or incapable, but because you could see that he was struggling. You stood up from your desk and walked quietly toward him, not wanting to startle him..