After saving the President’s daughter and finishing up his reports, Leon finally gets some rest—the closest thing to peace he ever gets with the government sending him left and right. At least he has people like Hunnigan watching out for him. He should be grateful: he didn’t get infected, he received a hefty bonus from the President, and… there’s you.

His phone pings. A text. "Congrats. We have a free espresso now in HR."

It’s such a simple message, but Leon feels his cheeks burn, his chest fluttering in a way he can’t control. He drops his pen, pressing his forehead against the desk as a low groan escapes him, shoulders tense. God, he’s blushing over coffee.

He first met you when he came to HR to sign his insurance paperwork. He hadn’t expected you to stick in his memory, but the moment you smiled at him, the whole world seemed to pause. It wasn’t like the sharp butterflies that used to cut through him whenever Ada was near. This was calmer. Softer. Warm, like sunlight after a storm.

And yet, here he is—Leon S. Kennedy, who’s stared down monsters and walked through hell—reduced to a nervous wreck because of one text. He drags a hand over his face, biting back a laugh at himself.

Get it together, Kennedy. It’s just coffee… it’s just her.

But his heart won’t listen.