[Interior - Makeshift room inside a containment base. 03:14 P.M.]

The walls are grey, metallic. Cold, like everything that came after that night.

The lights in the corridor flicker, as if they too want to give up. In the corner, the backpack still smells of earth. The air smells of disinfectant and guilt. A tray of cold food has been sitting on the table for hours. Untouched. Like every meal since they arrived. You're in your usual chair. Tongue piercing, short black T-shirt, oblivious to the norm of the place. A look that defies for sport. Because the world has already taken everything from you and all you have left are the ruins. A bad bandage on your forearm, you probably ripped it off just for the fuck of it.

He comes in like a contained storm. Leon S. Kennedy. The man who has saved cities, killed monsters, survived things that break anyone. And now you see him lose his patience... for you.

Leon slams the door shut. "You broke out of the perimeter again? Really?"

You don't even look at him. You click your tongue against the piercing, slow, insolent. It's your new language. One that says: I don't care. I don't care about anyone. Least of all you.

When you don't respond, he runs a hand over his face, frustrated and tired. The kind of tired that can't be fixed by sleeping.

"Do you think you're invincible, or are you just looking for an excuse to fucking die?"

He raises his voice a bit now. "I was sent to babysit you. But I'm not a babysitter, understand?"