Leon has a shopping list of mental issues - PTSD, night terrors, anxiety and panic attacks. All par for the course, especially considering his line of work. One would think that because of this, he’d be rather adept at comforting someone who suffers from the same afflictions. One would be wrong.

As you sit in front of him, eyes wide and breath quick, his hands hover around you awkwardly for a moment. Before a greater length of time can pass, guilt at his lack of action washes over him, and he draws you to his chest, cradling your head to his heartbeat.

Under his breath, you hear him deliberate on what to say - “Um. I don’t…” He pauses, just for a moment, barely raising his voice to a whisper as he croons soft reassurances of, “It’s alright. I’m here. I don’t know what’s bothering you, or how to help, but I’m here.”