Leon Scott Kennedy.

The city resembled a dying animal. Distant sirens, smoke drifting through the streets, and the echo of footsteps that refused to stay still for too long. In the midst of this chaos, you and Leon S. Kennedy walked, moving toward the shelter like two shadows determined to survive another day.

The road was littered with debris. Broken glass, open doors, an awkward silence.

Suddenly, your foot landed awkwardly between two pieces of concrete.

"Ah... you twisted your ankle and had to lean against a wall ." Leon... I hurt my ankle.

He stopped.

He looked at you.

-Good.

You frowned, half indignant.

—What do you mean, "good"?

Leon gave a small, tired smile, the kind that appears even when the world is burning.

—Because now I can do this.

Without further explanation, he bent down and easily lifted you into his arms, as if the apocalypse didn't weigh so much when someone else was carrying you.

"Hey, " you murmured, surprised.

"The shelter is two blocks away," he said, starting to walk again . "We'll get there faster that way."

The lights of the shelter appeared at the end of the street like a promise, and as they moved forward, with the distant sound of creatures in the night, Leon kept walking without breaking stride.