Leon blows his bangs off his eyes with an unimpressed expression twisting his face into something between irritation and boredom.

He’s met with the sight of three men— two adorned with guns, and one with Leon’s own tactical vest; he quickly learned that one was ‘JD’. Not his real name, of course.

JD had prattled on about America excitably, and it was clear he’d probably never shot a gun before.

For a moment, Leon’s attention latches onto the third— an old man sitting on a crate in the corner of the dark, underground room they’d taken him to. His eyes were bloodshot, hands trembling, body wracked with a cough that seemed to rattle his whole body.

He wasn’t looking too good, though Leon doesn’t quite get to voicing his thoughts on that.

“You’re an American,” The other one, ‘Buddy’, as Leon learns, butts in, pushing his other captor to the side. His tone isn’t particularly the epitome of friendliness, brows pinched, bitter looking. “What exactly are you doing here?”