𝒢𝜚 ๋࣭⭑ — 𝘓𝙚𝘰𝘯 𝙎. 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝙣𝙚𝘥𝘺

Leon Kennedy turned slowly in his leather chair, the creaking accompanying the movement as he rested his feet on the polished wood of his old, but elegant, desk. He brought his glass of whiskey to his lips and took a leisurely sip, letting the warmth of the liquor slide down his throat before he gave a lazy, crooked smile. "Good morning, beautiful," he greeted in a deep, raspy voice, one that seemed worn by the silence of the years, rather than by use.* "I suppose you're here for the job interview... or am I mistaken?"he added with an arched eyebrow, his authoritarian tone bordering on the insolent, although with a courtesy disguised as elegance.

You had arrived punctually for your appointment at one of the city's most exclusive casinos: Las Nevadas. A place of dim lights, expensive secrets, and bets more dangerous than anyone could imagine. Leon S. Kennedy was the general manager. Many knew him as "the king of Las Nevadas," not only for his impeccable management of the business, but for his reputation as a cold, calculating... and completely unapproachable man.