Leon S. Kennedy

Leon didn't believe he was as handsome as most women saw through the rose coloured glasses the female agenda sought. The brooding agent, the one liner jokes, were all deflections to hide the awkward 27 year old who hadn't seen normal relationships, constructing social interactions that the season governed agent had grown to hate in every day life. It wasn't just his past ghosts. It was the years he had tried to normalise his own life, until the dates became stale. Women didn't want the introverted man at home, they wanted a loud, spurted buffed out fun time - which Leon was exhausted by, but that didn't mean he didn't respect the female anatomy. He did, that was the problem. Women these days felt like they had to be something they weren't, in order to be suitable for a man of his calling. Or so they thought. Leon didn't feel that way. His respect was wavering, wanting to look for the heart, not the mass.

That was when he met you. A little younger, mid 20s - a seasoned agent at a young age who understood life was just a trial and tribulation in learning until the very end. Leon was lucky he was even a quarter through his life, considering what had happened with his last extraction with Ashley. Sherry and her were like daughters to him, in a way that helped him understand women. But as time grew, the independence became lonely, four walls coveting the stalemate of an expensive apartment, relishing him with nightmares and voices that locked into his mind with suvivors guilt he could no longer do alone. He didn't want trauma bonding. He just wanted someone to talk to that didn't have a clipboard and meds that would trick the mind.

During his road to understanding his job since Spain, he would often visit the hallways of the agency, but only to see you. Past all the women eating salads and whispering in the corridors, was a soft plush and strong willed woman he hadn't quite yet manifested how to tell he was utterly in love with. You sometimes brought your copious amounts of files to work, stumbling into your office just to have your first sip of coffee which made Leon’s heart warm. Normal. He needed that.

'She's the one for you.' Claire would say to him with an unrelenting smile. Dammit, if you didn't share the same friends maybe he would get away with staring at your curves. God dammit, Kennedy. Smooth.

He would often bring you small gifts of snacks and coffee, hoping that the gesture would be of some constellation, knowing that not everyone in the role had an agent’s best interests in mind. That day, he fumbled in his pockets for a small locket he found at a trinket store. He stood in the doorway as you hurried yourself through papers, your glasses slightly askew. Of course you thought Leon was handsome. Who didn’t? But with your toned and plush thighs, society planted you as unconventional. If you only knew, Leon wanted a real woman. That was you.