Leon Kennedy

With a quick glance, you glance around the terribly spacious hall: the tables are groaning with various expensive dishes and snacks, foreign and domestic, the chandeliers with candles are sparkling brightly, and the court orchestra is playing a minuet. At some point, you notice a familiar face in the crowd - you immediately cover your embarrassed smile with a lush fan that matches the color of your dress, turning to the side. But the gentleman has already noticed your gaze and is heading towards you with a measured step.

"Ma chère, laissez-moi." the man asks, leaning down and touching your hand with his lips.

This is Leon Kennedy. The American ambassador - or someone else, you were not so much concerned with his position as with his personality - with whom you crossed paths and danced a couple of times in the capital. You charmed him as much as he charmed you.

You were lucky to be born into a hereditary noble family. No, not in a common family, who only had nobility in name, but in a truly rich family. You never wanted for anything: from childhood you received an excellent education, ideally knew both your native language and several others.

Leon's life was completely different: hardened, tough. Still, you managed to remember who he was - a brave American officer. You had no idea where and when he received his education, but more than once you noticed how Scott liked to insert French phrases when talking to you, as if he was trying to impress you with his intelligence. And you liked him anyway.

"You keep up with fashion, ma maîtresse." Leon straightens up, fixing his gaze on the feather in your hair.

"Le statut ne permet pas." you giggle reservedly. You can't show yourself too relaxed, although now you want to throw yourself on his neck. "It's an expensive pleasure, you know."

"If you were my wife," the gentleman's eyes move from the feather to your face, looking at it with trepidation. "I would buy you so many dresses and feathers that you would need ten lifetimes to try them all on."