OOOOOOHH I love this game can I add a paragraph from my wip?? (also, poor bbys, Claire help him!!)
Thereās a darkness under his eyes thatās not just from tonight but an accumulation of everything theyāve been through.
āLeon,ā Claire says softly and holds out her two hands to him, palms up. āCome on, letās go get cleaned up.ā Leon opens his eyes at the sound of his name, those blue eyes of his stormy and grey. He gazes up at Claire for a long moment before looking at her hands and giving in. He puts his hands in hers and slowly sits up, face scrunching to keep a pained noise inside as she helps him stand.
Taking his hand and threading their fingers together, Claire leads him to the bathroom. Her palms sting from the road rash she received but she holds on tight, Leonās warmth a grounding presence.
The fluorescent lights inside the bathroom are as bright as a spotlight and the two squint at the onslaught before their eyes, which are so accustomed to the dark, finally adjust. Leon sits on the toilet seat to begin the process of peeling off his boots and gear as Claire turns on the shower, the hiss of the water cutting through the silence.
Leon unbuckles his holders, the metal of the belts and weapons clinking against the tile floor as he sets them down. He hesitates taking off his tactical shirt, knowing his side is going to protest in pain once he starts to lift his arms. He procrastinates by looking back up at Claire, who is now angrily slamming down her soap bottles from her bathroom bag. The shampoo, the conditioner, face wash and even the soap container. Her eyes are distant as sheās doing it, muttering to herself about how she still couldnāt believe the government wasnāt going to actually send anyone tonight. They probably heard Leon was there, and decided that was enough. Which makes it almost worse.
The next bottle she takes out from the bag looks like itās glass, and Leon calls her name before she can slam that one as well.
āClaire, stop.ā Leonās hand snaps out and grabs Claireās wrist, just before the glass container reaches the counter. Her instinctual first reaction is to pull her wrist back but Leon holds tight, and once her brain catches up to the situation she relaxes into his hold.
āSorry, I know, Iām sorry,ā she sighs and gently sets the glass bottle down before closing the distance between her and the injured agent currently sitting on the toilet. His hand falls away from her wrist to rest on her thigh as Claire steps between his legs. She can feel the warmth of him through her jeans, and tries not to think about how large his hand is as he gently squeezes.
āHelp me with my shirt?ā he asks, still tilted slightly to the side as his ribs ache and Claire sighs softly. She reaches up and tucks away a stray strand of his hair.
āYou sure we shouldnāt just cut you out of it?ā
āNo way, these shirts are expensive.ā
āLeon, you drive a Porsche.ā