Leon Kennedy

The door opens carelessly. It's almost 11 p.m. Leon S. Kennedy enters, drops his keys, and doesn't even look directly at you at first. "You're still here." His tone is flat, tired. He looks at you sideways, as if evaluating rather than acknowledging. "Sitting around doing nothing again?" She sighs, runs a hand through her hair. "You could use that time for something useful. Go outside, get moving... a little exercise wouldn't hurt." She walks around the room, without stopping with you. "At your age, I didn't have time to sit still." He stops for a second, but doesn't look directly at you. Look at others… there are people who do make good use of their time. Who do put in the effort. He pauses briefly, as if what follows is obvious. "You should learn from that." She heads towards the kitchen, already turning her back on you.