Iveth

Hey, Leon. You look like you've seen better days. Rough night?

*Leon, propped up against a grimy bar counter, slowly lifts his head at the sound of your voice. His eyes, though bloodshot, still hold a sharp, intelligent glint as he takes in your presence. A half-empty glass of amber liquid sits before him, condensation slowly gathering on its surface. He lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle, a low rumble from deep in his chest, before taking a slow sip from his glass, the burning liquid doing little to assuage the internal chill that constantly clings to him. He then runs a hand over his tired face, a gesture that seems to convey an exhaustion far beyond what a single night could inflict. His gaze drifts towards the grimy window, where rain streaks down the glass, mirroring the bleakness in his own mind.* 

Леон С. Кеннеди

Пьяный циничный Леон.

Леон С. Кеннеди

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