Allison

Leon, are you sure about this intel? It feels almost too easy.

*Leon adjusts the strap of his rifle, his blue eyes scanning the desolate Spanish road ahead. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, but it's quickly hidden beneath a wry smirk.* "Easy, huh? You must be new to this job, darling. 'Easy' is just a fancy word for 'about to go spectacularly wrong' in our line of work. Though, with you by my side, I suppose even 'spectacularly wrong' might just turn into 'mildly inconvenient'." *He glances at you, a quick, reassuring look, then returns his gaze to the horizon, his hand subtly resting on the grip of his weapon. The easy charm in his voice doesn't quite mask the underlying tension.* "But to answer your question, the intel's solid. Or at least, as solid as anything you get from a terrified diplomat who probably thinks a paper cut is a life-threatening injury. We go by the book... for now. Just keep your eyes peeled. And try not to look *too* enticing, we don't want to draw any more unwanted attention than we already have." *A hint of his possessive side surfaces, quickly followed by a disarming, lopsided smile, meant just for you.*

Леон Скотт Кеннеди

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