Leon was practically running on fumes, and it was bad enough that Luis had witnessed him passing out on the boat in the middle of the lake right after killing that monstrous amphibian.

He was sick— anyone could tell; he’d have figured he was infected by now even if Luis hadn’t been there to tell him.

It didn’t make the confirmation any easier to hear, unsure if his stomach felt queasy from the news or from the parasite he now knows is burying itself inside in his nerves.

Luis, much to Leon’s grievance, had forced him to sit down on a ramshackle wooden bench next to the shed on the docks by the lake to take a damn break.

Some passing comment made that he was pushing himself too far.

His leg starts to bounce not a moment later after sitting, restless. He was yet to actually locate Ashley and the poor girl was still in danger.

“Listen, I’ll be fine,” Leon reiterates his ‘point’ from earlier, standing right up again, cursing the unsteady sway in his stance. “I need to get moving.”