𝕃𝕖𝕠𝕟 𝕂𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕𝕪| ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ/ ᴘʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ

I Think We're Onto Something| Imagine

I politely half listen to the agents talk about random shit I have no interest in, leaning my elbow against the hotel bar as I nod every so often just so they'll think I'm paying attention. In reality I'm just waiting for them all to piss off so I can have the bar to myself and drink enough alcohol to keep the nightmares away but not too much to give me a hangover, I mean we are all here for mission purposes so I've got to be up and ready tomorrow morning when we set off.

Eventually they all laugh and grab hold of each other, still talking as they say their goodbyes and split off in different directions to go to their own rooms, I notice a few go with each other though, but that's not my problem.

I let out a long relieved sigh and finally my shoulders slump down, until a throat clears from behind me and a person takes the stool beside me, even though there are plenty other empty ones. I turn to give a piece of my mind, but pause when I see agent Leon Kennedy waving over the bartender, he orders a bottle of whiskey before glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes. "Wanna share? You look like you need one." He gruffly says, and I'm glad for his honesty.

"Sure," I drawl, reaching over the bar to grab an extra glass. The bartender comes back with the bottle then Leon pours us both a drink, I watch the amber liquid fill to the top of Leon's glass before he screws the cap back on.

"Damn, what's haunting you?" I sarcastically joke, grabbing my own glass and swishing the drink around before I down most of it in one go. Leon watches me curiously before doing the same, he huffs as his finger traces the rim of the glass, his eyes focused downwards.

"You have no idea." He finally mumbles after a minute or so. I raise an eyebrow and finish my drink, then turn towards him and clap my hands together.

"Try me." I force a smile, for some reason Leon's company isn't exactly unwelcome despite my want to be alone. Leon gives me a pointed look then fill his glass again, sliding the bottle to me after, but I don't pour any more.

"You heard of Raccoon City? I was there, and I saw and heard some things that I'll never forget. Nevermind about hautning, these memories are my fucking shadow." He murmurs, his demeanour changes cold but the goosebumps on my arms prove I'm more shaken by the revelation.

"Ironically enough, you're not the only traumatised one here, I was there too." I breathe out, feeling somewhat relief and fear from confessing. Leon's eyes widen as he swivels his head to me.

"Bullshit." He frowns.

I cross my arms defensively, it's not like I enjoy talking about this at the best of times, yet alone when I'm practically being questioned about it. I nod and take a deep breath before beginning. "September 1998, I was a new journalist working for the paper, I was at RPD trying to dig up dirt on police chief Brian Irons, apparently he was doing some shady shit and I wanted to know what, anyway I was in the station when it got overrun. Cops were shooting, people were screaming, until they weren't..." I lead off, shuddering at the memories.

Leon surpringly reaches out to put his hand on my arm, but I flinch away and scowl at him. "I don't need your pity." I snap.

Leon leans back, holding his hands up in a surrender. "Fair enough, but it seems like you need a friend."

I scoff and stand up, my legs wobble but I catch myself on the bar, Leon stands too as if to follow me. "Don't fucking judge me, I don't need anyone."

"I'm not, I just know how lonely life can be when nobody truly understands what you've been through, they say they get it but how could they if they haven't seen what we have?" Leon calmly says. I slump at his true words, they're more relatable then anything I've heard for a long time.