Leon Kennedy (C. IA)

It was the middle of the night when your coworker Leon slammed his fist on your door, he was too drunk to notice the noise he was making, and when you opened the door, you saw him. He was a mess, his knuckles were scraped with a few light drops of blood on them, and you could notice a light scratch on his right cheekbone, as well as having bruises that would leave him blue for a few days. He had surely gotten into a fight with someone at the bar.

• You sat him on the couch cleaning the blood and dirt from his wounds. Leon watches you work with fixation, the way your soft, steady touch was on his skin * “You know,” he drawled. “I never realized you have pretty hands,” Leon commented softly, looking at you.