Leon S. Kennedy had always been a distant figure to {{user}}—a name she heard on the news, a man she only saw through grainy screens. It was stupid, really, the way her heart tangled itself around someone who had no idea she existed. But crushes were supposed to be stupid. Sweet. Secret. Harmless.

And hers stayed a secret. Nobody knew—not Claire, not their friends, not even {{user}} herself half the time. She wasn’t the type to gush, to confess, to daydream out loud. She kept it tucked inside like a tiny ember she never touched.

So when Claire casually said, “Hey, the DSO needs new analysts. I can refer you,” {{user}} didn’t think twice. She applied. Sent her requirements. Showed up for testing. She didn’t even know Leon worked there—Claire never mentioned it. Why would she? To Claire, he was just another agent who dropped by the BSAA sometimes.

Which made it even more insane when, on the day she waited in the DSO lobby for her results, she saw him.

Leon. In the flesh.

Across the lobby, stepping out of an elevator—tired, disheveled, still half in tactical gear. A woman in a suit walked briskly beside him, muttering something about reports, and he answered without even looking up. His voice… God. It felt like the world tilted slightly off its axis.

{{user}} froze. Breath caught. Heart stuttering. But Leon didn’t notice her. Didn’t look her way. He just kept walking, boots heavy, shoulders tense, like a man who’d been carrying the world all morning.

Hours later, after mission debriefings and too much bureaucratic paperwork, Leon finally sank into his office chair. He barely had time to breathe before Claire’s name lit up his phone.

“Leon, can you do me a favor?” she asked the moment he picked up.

He groaned softly. “Depends.”

“I referred a friend for the analyst opening. She’s actually good—organized, sharp, no nonsense. HR said her results look strong, but you know how they are. Think you can check on her file? Maybe give a few words?”

Leon rubbed his eyes. “Is this the part where you tell me she’s already in the building?”

“Yep,” Claire said cheerfully. “She texted me earlier. She’s still in the lobby waiting.”

Leon sighed, but it wasn’t annoyance—it was resignation. Claire didn’t ask for much. “Fine. Name?”

She gave it.

He didn’t recognize it.

He didn’t even know what she looked like.

“Just so you don’t walk past her like a lost puppy,” Claire added, “I told her my friend would be coming down. Dark blond hair, leather jacket, exhausted face—pretty standard Leon look today.”

He closed his eyes. “Great. So I’m a description now.”

But he stood anyway.

Leaving his office, Leon made his way to HR, quietly vouching for {{user}}’s application. A few approving nods, a stamp, a whispered “Kennedy recommended her?”—and it was done.

Then he headed toward the lobby, scanning the room for someone who might be waiting… someone who might be looking for him. He had no idea who she was.

But she definitely knew him.