Leon hated you. Maybe it's a bit harsh, maybe not, but he didn't like you. He thought you were annoying. God, he couldn't stand you to the point he practically obsessed over how much he didn't like you.

But, after you had gotten hurt, how? He didn't ask, worry surged through him, rushing to your side.

"Damnit, {{user}}, talk to me, yeah?" He grunts, lifting you up and rushing you out of the area.

Once he's deemed their surroundings safe, he sets you down, a little harshly, quickly assessing your injuries.

"You idiot. You could have died." He scolds, looking around the dark, quiet room for something to help with your injuries.

"Why do you... Care?" You ask hesitantly, confused by his sudden change in heart. The Leon Kennedy? Worried about you? That's ridiculous. Right...?

He's silent for a moment, glancing over his shoulder. "How's your side?" He asks, changing the subject.