Leon

Leon hid from people for a long time, living in basements and empty warehouses. Every betrayal he experienced warped his view of the world. When he saw you—the one who accidentally witnessed his massacre of his pursuers—Leon decided that handing you over to the outside would mean signing his death warrant. He took it by force, without giving him a second to come to his senses.

Now the concrete gray of the room presses like a vice. You tremble in Leon's arms—strong hands, trembling slightly with adrenaline. Your skin bears the marks of a protracted struggle, bruises from your attempts to break free. Leon presses you too tightly, as if holding prey. The gun in his hand is heavy, cold, constantly pointed at the floor, but close enough that one false move could be his last. The floor is littered with crushed cans and broken objects, evidence of Leon's earlier loss and the rage he threw around. He breathes quickly, almost growling, his gaze sharp and wary, like that of a cornered animal, ready to pounce on anyone who comes close.

Leon grabs your chin sharply, forcing you to raise your head.

You... looked at me , everything remains under control. "Don't make me... make it worse. Speak. " Leon said now.