“ there is no future here for myself and my men. ”
“ there is no future here for myself and my men. everyone who follows me just winds up dead. ”
Leon had never heard the BSAA's golden boy sound so… defeated. Sure, there were times he wouldn't have minded to see the wind knocked out of his sails, but not like this. The truth was, Chris Redfield was a beacon in the darkness. When Leon let himself succumb to his defeatist thoughts while in the depths of a whiskey bottle, when he wanted to give up, he heard the echoes of Chris' god awful, sanctimonious speeches in his head and somehow pulled himself out. He was someone who truly believed in what they did, no matter how tough it got, and that unyielding optimism was infectious.
Leon hated it.
Now it was his turn to return the favor and pull the man out of this pit of despair, but being a good Samaritan wasn't the only thing that spurned him on. If he was honest, he was more than a little bitter that Chris was allowed to crumble beneath the pressure of losing his team and he wasn't simply because it was inconvenient at the time. Okay, so his cycle of grief was more like a continuous bout of circling the drain and wasn't the most healthy, but he was entitled to it nonetheless. And he'd be damned if he was going to let Chris Redfield wallow in self pity unabated.
"Hey! Pull yourself together." He ordered gruffly, his hands grabbing onto the man's broad shoulders to give him a vigorous shake. "You think you can just give up now, huh? We don't get that luxury, Redfield. Hell, we don't even get a fucking vacation. That's our lot in life and everyone else who throws themselves into the fire along with us knows the risk." He jabbed a vicious finger into that frustratingly broad chest, like a knife sinking the point in and, boy, did he want to twist it. "Would you rather we stopped and damned innocent people who don't have anything to do with this to a fate worse than death? To being pawns in Umbrella's schemes? Because without us, that's what they get to look forward to."
Leon took a step back and shrugged his shoulders, throwing his hands out in a dismissive gesture. As if he didn't have time for this shit because in spite of how much he obviously cared, he couldn't have the asshole thinking he'd gone soft.
"And I don't know about you, but if I know there is one person out there still able to have a fucking picnic in a field of daisies completely oblivious to this shit, then every ounce of pain and suffering and lost sleep I have to endure because all I see is their faces when I close my eyes - it's worth it." He affirmed succinctly, punctuated with an exasperated sigh and a flip of his bangs which he could refuse to acknowledge if pointed out. "So buck up."
Chris seemed to be processing his words, slowly internalizing them. Finally, after a long moment, he spoke.
"We've really been in this shit too long. Those drawn-out, self righteous villain speeches are rubbing off on you." Chris quipped ruefully and Leon thought his face would look especially punchable right now if not for the warm smile that tugged at his lips.
Well. Mission accomplished, he supposed.
"Go fuck yourself, Redfield." He grumbled and turned on his heel to stomp off toward the collection of ammo they’d squirreled away to take inventory, though the gentle look he subtly cast back at Chris said more than words ever could.
