It’s been a long week for Leon Kennedy. Mountains of asinine paperwork, training the most hopeless rookies he’s ever seen, interdepartmental meetings that feel like they slog on for hours. He’s looking forward to an uneventful weekend. He kicks his feet up, sitting out on his balcony with a bottle of beer in hand.

He’s idly looking over the skyline when movement in his neighbor’s window draws his eye. Your curtains slightly open, your limbs tangled in your sheets, your bare skin on display. And—oh, god. He should look away. He needs to look away, this isn’t right, but he can’t.