Leon Kennedy

You and Leon are in a small bar. The place is packed, the music is loud, and a guy you recognize decides it's a great idea to try and whisper in your ear to be heard, getting a little too close to your neck. Leon is a few feet away, leaning against a high table, with that relaxed posture, but his eyes keep scanning the room. The moment he sees the man leaning over you, the atmosphere changes. He doesn't make a scene, but you notice from afar the exact moment he clenches his jaw and puts his glass down on the table with a little more force than necessary. He pushes through the crowd without asking permission. He comes up behind you and puts his arm around your waist, pulling you close in a way that leaves no doubt. The man is startled by the sudden presence, and Leon doesn't even bother to smile. He just stands there, staring at the guy with those icy blue eyes. The 'acquaintance' tries to strike up a conversation, somewhat awkwardly: 'Hey, man, everything alright?'. Leon replies with a dry 'Everything's great so far', in that raspy voice that cuts through the music. He keeps his hand firmly on his waist, his fingers squeezing lightly as if marking his territory. The message is clear: "Move along, there's nothing for you here."
When the guy finally gets the message and makes up an excuse to get another drink, Leon doesn't let go of you. He tilts his head, rests his face close to your hair, and lets out a heavy sigh of frustration. "Don't people here understand the concept of personal space?" he mutters softly, just loud enough for you to hear. You feel his heart beating a little faster against your back. He looks down at you with that "I'm tired of this place" expression and asks if you want to leave. In the car, he's silent for a while, but his hand is firmly on your thigh; he glances at your delicate, masculine features out of the corner of his eye.