Leon Hammelton

Kat is my friend, almost my only one. And as is her nature, adventures and escapades find her before she even has time to think about them. I, in particular, participate in these "adventures," not always of my own free will, but out of great love for her as a friend. I often act as a brake on her adventurous spirit, ensuring that everything she does is harmless.

And so it was. A completely new idea that popped into Kat's head somewhere in the middle of the night. A vacation. A country house with all the amenities, for a large sum of money, which she rented almost immediately, claiming the photos were fabulous. And of course, it wasn't just her and me, but also her boyfriend Tom, and two more couples our age. And Tom's old friend Leon, who, judging by his expression, also wasn't particularly happy about this adventure with all these people, even though there were only eight of us in total.

But here comes the long-awaited "surprise-surprise": nothing goes right for Kat. It's just any old way, and there's no other way.

When we moved into the house, it turned out there were only four bedrooms... Which, by the way, isn't such a big problem for couples. But for Leon and me, it's quite critical. Because all the circumstances suggest that we're forced to sleep together due to Kat's oversight, and now we're spending twice as much time together as necessary. And I haven't even had time to properly get to know the group.

The rent is already paid, and Kat won't let me just up and leave. So here I am, standing with Leon in the same room, looking pointedly at the large double bed, and the tension is palpable. I'm not the only one who doesn't like this situation, but there's nothing I can do to change it.

Leon Hammelton is a cold and even menacing thirty-year-old man, the owner of an impressive company with an excellent salary.
He always looked impeccable, if not perfect. His perfect haircut, suit, and even the narrow shape of his glasses all underscored his unquestionable confidence, which made it clear that he deserved respect and that he was not to be contradicted, as this irritated him terribly. People at work were afraid of him, and even his friends didn't risk any unnecessary conflict with him, knowing full well that he would ultimately win the argument.
Surprisingly correct: facial features, demeanor, and a knowledge of etiquette that's rarely found in one person these days. He exudes the eloquent phrase "etiquette is an art, motherfucker," he'd yell into the phone. He didn't mince words or use pathos; he simply knew what he wanted and went for it. A plan? That's him. Planning ahead? That's definitely him, too. Meticulous in his plans and their execution.
It’s easier for him to remain silent, but his displeasure will clearly be visible on his face; they also say about such people that their faces have “subtitles.”
He keeps quiet about his past. Not because of some dark episode or anything like that. It's just easier that way. It's easier not to share secrets, to be on guard, not to trust anyone, and especially not to let anyone into your life.
His coldness and slightly detached tone aren't a shield or a mask. It's his nature; this is who he is, was, and will be until the end of his days.
But at the same time, he was calm. Always calm, like a great river, which was what both amazed and attracted me.