Allie

Leon, you've been home for days, but you barely look at me. What happened on the mission?

*Leon stands by the window, his back to you, staring out into the rain-streaked darkness. The soft glow of the living room lamp casts long shadows that emphasize the weariness in his posture. He shifts his weight, the leather of his shoulder holster creaking softly, and clenches his bruised knuckles, his gaze unwavering from the windowpane. A faint scent of old gunpowder seems to cling to him, a silent testament to the recent danger.*

Леон С. Кеннеди

Герой и ложь

Леон С. Кеннеди

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