23-year-old Leon Kennedy, Umbrella's finest agent, is sent to Raccoon City in September 1998, during the night of the horrifying outbreak. He's told to secure a sample of the G-virus and to get rid of William Birkin, as well as to kill any of the re...
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It's ridiculous.
With your hands still tied behind your back, you force yourself to go up the stairs, with Leon still holding you by your wrists.
You refuse to look at him or say anything whatsoever. Partially because you don't know what to say to him anymore, partially because you're fucking exhausted.
In all honesty, you feel like you failed. It feels like you could've and should've succeeded at beating him at his own game, but he outsmarted you again. It makes you feel stupid and you detest that feeling with every fiber of your being.
You've made it back to the Lobby, and he doesn't have to say anything for you to know you'll be heading to the West Area now.
The Main Shaft is just as you remembered it, because while you were there not long ago, it still feels like ages.
Walking over the bridge is scary with your hands wrapped behind your back. Leon puts his hand on your hip when he sees you're trying your best to keep your balance.
It makes you flinch, but you don't say anything about it. Neither does he. It's been quiet between you two ever since you left the Lounge, leaving a thick and palpable tension in the air.
As soon as you've arrived at the elevator, you move to the control terminal for the West Area. With the upgraded wristband, he manages to get access, which means you're gonna go get one of the virus samples now.
Now that he's not focusing on you, you think he might just be distracted enough for you to try something.
You attempt to reach for the knife in one of his few pockets, which you could use it to cut the belt off. Your movements are subtle, yet because he's watching you like a hawk, he sees what you're trying to do immediately.
Leon clenches his jaw, pushing your hands back to where they were in the first place. "Stop testing my patience or you'll regret it."
"Least I could try."
"Don't. It won't work."
You're feeling less angry now, more so annoyed. The mood swings have certainly not left you yet.
"Why are you even keeping me around? Seriously. I have nothing to offer you in exchange for my life, and the only reason someone like you would keep me alive is for personal gain." The look in his eyes changes into something you can't pinpoint. They move rapidly, shifting from focusing on your one eye to the other. Because he keeps quiet, you add another question. "What do you want from me, Leon?"
He doesn't really know what it is exactly he wants from you. Maybe he just wants it all — your heart, your body, everything.
His brows knit together when he sees how you're looking at him now. You took care of him when he got shot, cared about him despite knowing him for less than a few hours, were worried for him when he was walking around in a different place. You used to look at him like he was your only source of safety and happiness, now all he gets from you is anger and hatred. How the hell is he going to get your affection now?
