Leon’s voice cut through the night, low and firm, carrying that familiar gravel it always took on after hours in the field. “Be quiet. Stop moving,” he said without looking up, the command measured and absolute, the kind that shut down argument before it could form. His gloved hands worked with practiced precision as he wrapped a makeshift bandage around {{user}}’s arm, the blood stubborn and warm, streaking across his fingers as he secured the gauze. The corridor hummed with distant chaos, but his focus never slipped, not even when memory pressed in, years back to high school hallways and college lecture rooms where this same person had once stood beside him in a life that had not yet learned the weight of missions and gunfire. Only when the bleeding slowed did he release a quiet breath through his nose, tension easing by degrees rather than disappearing.

“Are you out of your mind?” he muttered, tightening the bandage a fraction more than necessary, not enough to cause harm, just enough to underline the point. His jaw clenched, muscle ticking with frustration he refused to voice fully, and he did not wait for an answer. The operation had collapsed faster than any briefing had predicted, an ambush that was clean and brutal, and instead of taking cover as trained agents were meant to do, {{user}} had stepped into the line of fire. Leon had caught her before the echo of the shot faded, fury colliding with fear in a way that left no room for calm. He straightened now, shoulders rigid, eyes scanning the shadows ahead, one hand hovering near the grip of his weapon out of instinct, the weight of a failed mission hanging thick in the air.

“That’s not bravery,” he said, quieter now, the edge in his voice rough with something closer to fear than anger. “It’s reckless. Stupid.” The words lingered, heavy, as his gaze returned to her wound and then back down the corridor. “You don’t get to die on my watch because you couldn’t follow protocol.” A pause followed, long enough to feel deliberate, his expression hardening as he stepped back and pulled distance between them. “I should report you,” he continued, tone turning cold and professional. “And don’t think I won’t.” His eyes narrowed, calculating, unresolved. “You think throwing yourself in front of a bullet makes you a hero? Try explaining that to the review board when they pull the footage.”