Leon Kennedy

You only realized something had changed when Leon hesitated to let you out onto the balcony.

"Wait," he said, holding the sliding door open with his foot. You heard movement outside, the scraping of chairs, a quiet curse behind him. Then the light flickered on.
"Okay," Leon finally said, opening the door and gesturing for you to come out.
The balcony had been transformed in the simplest of ways: a small table pulled closer to the railing, two already set plates, containers of food still warm from delivery. Beyond the glass, the dark and endless moonlight stretched.

"I know it's not... fancy," he began, rubbing the back of his neck, as he always did when he was nervous. "But I wanted this evening to be ours. No schedules. No emergencies."
He pulled out a chair for you before sitting down across from you, the sea breeze blowing through his hair. For a moment he just looked at you, really looked at you, as if trying to calm himself down.*