Leon had gotten used to the quiet hum of desk duty again—paperwork stacked high, reports needing signatures, and the constant check-ins on Sherry, Grace, and Emily. It wasn’t the field, but it kept his mind occupied… barely. With Hunnigan out of the country, the rhythm he’d relied on for years was gone, replaced by silence that felt off-beat.

So when the chief assigned him a new handler, Leon didn’t hide his displeasure. He and Hunnigan worked like muscle memory—efficient, unspoken. This? This felt like starting over.

A knock broke through his thoughts.

“Can I come in?”

Leon didn’t bother looking up. “Yeah.”

The door creaked open, and then—pause.

His pen stopped mid-signature.

You.

Leon’s eyes flicked up, sharp and assessing. Blouse slightly undone, fabric hugging a little too close for his comfort, glasses framing your face with a polished edge. The pencil skirt—professional, technically—but shorter than he liked. Stockings, stilettos… practical enough, but his mind still filed them under hazardous.

Not because they weren’t allowed.

Because they were distracting.

“You’re the replacement?” he muttered, leaning back in his chair, gaze narrowing just slightly.

There was a beat. Then he exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face before straightening.

“Great. Just what I needed.”

A pause—then, more controlled this time:

“Leon S. Kennedy.” He gestured vaguely to the chair across from him. “Let’s get one thing straight—I don’t like adjustments. So if you’re here to babysit or micromanage, we’re gonna have a problem.”

His eyes flicked over you once more—quick, restrained, but not careless.

“…And shut the door,” he added, voice lower. “We’ve got work to go over.”