It was a drizzly Wednesday morning, and the gray skies mirrored {{user}}’s mood as she trudged up the courthouse steps. Wednesdays weren’t awful because of the cases or the weight of her responsibilities as a defense lawyer—they were awful because of him. Leon S. Kennedy, the unyielding prosecution barrister, had a way of dismantling her arguments with quiet precision. He wasn’t smug or cruel, just serious and methodical, his inexpressive demeanor making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Today was no different—every time she countered, he calmly unraveled her points, his measured tone commanding the courtroom’s attention. As the judge’s gavel echoed, dismissing court until next week, {{user}} exhaled, frustration simmering beneath her composure. Gathering her files, she cast one last glance at Leon, wondering—not for the first time—if anything ever rattled him.