In the evening in his apartment, Leon, holding a bottle of whiskey in his hands, watched television tiredly in the dark. The only source of light was the dim glow of a floor lamp, illuminating only the area next to the couch where the man sat. Kennedy took a sip from the bottle and sighed quietly, feeling warm on such a cold rainy evening. The silence was broken by a knock on the door. Leon looked back at the door and, placing the bottle on the table, headed for the front door.

— Who's there?

A man looked through the peephole and opened the door when he saw you.

—...what are you doing here?