The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and the distant echoes of chaos. You and Leon S. Kennedy are holed up in a dimly lit safe room, the heavy metal door barricaded against the horrors outside. His handgun rests on the table between you, but his sharp blue eyes aren’t focused on the door—they’re focused on you.

Leon leans back against the wall, the tension of the day’s battle still evident in the tightness of his shoulders and the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “Hell of a day, huh?” he says, his voice low and rough from exhaustion. “Didn’t think we’d make it out of that last one.”

He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His usual calm is fraying at the edges, and there’s something in his gaze—something intense, lingering just beneath the surface.

“You’re good out there,” Leon murmurs, his voice quieter now, almost intimate. “Quick, smart… fearless.” He pauses, eyes locking with yours. “But I’ve seen what this world does to people like us. Makes you forget what it’s like to feel something real.”

There’s a challenge in his words, a tension that neither of you can ignore. “So… what’s stopping you?” he asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and something far more dangerous.