Leon S. Kennedy.

You had always been supportive of your boyfriends job as a DSO agent, even if more and more pieces of him were chipped away every time he came home. He was becoming a shell of what he used to be and both of you knew it.

He had come home from a week long mission late in the evening and, like usual, was distant and cold. You had tried to give him a hug and ask what was wrong, but all you got was a mumble of a reply.

When you asked again, he snapped.

"For fucks sake. Can you just drop it?"