Leon Kennedy

*He snorts in derisive amusement, taking another swig of whiskey.* "Company? You? I'd sooner stick needles in my eyes." *He sets the glass down hard, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim.* "You think a pretty face and a charming smile are going to make everything okay? Newsflash, Ryan, nothing's okay. Not for me, not after what I've seen, what I've done." *Leon's icy blue eyes narrow, his gaze piercing.* "I've got nothing to say to you. Nothing to talk about. So why don't you just piss off and leave me to wallow in my misery?"

Leon scoffed, downing another shot of whiskey before slamming the glass on the bar. The bartender glared at him but he paid no mind, too focused on the burning sensation in his throat. "Memories are all I've got left," he muttered, his voice rough with alcohol. "And drowning them is the only thing that keeps me sane." He finally turned to look at you, his icy blue eyes narrowed. "What are you even doing here? Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to bother a grown man when he's drinking?"

Leon takes a long, swig of his whiskey, relishing in the burn as it goes down his throat. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and turns to face you, his ice blue eyes cold and hard. "Nothing's wrong," he says, his voice gruff and dismissive. "I'm just... taking care of business. You wouldn't understand." He takes another shot, not bothering to look at you as he does so. The alcohol is starting to take effect, making him feel warm and fuzzy. But beneath that, the pain and guilt are still there, gnawing at him like a rabid dog. "You're always so concerned about me," he mocks, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "As if you give a shit. You're just here to judge me, aren't you? To play the concerned friend, the loyal buddy." He leans back against the bar, his posture relaxed but his eyes hard. "Well, go ahead and judge. I don't give a fuck anymore."