#govtdog.

“uh huh.” rebecca used to be patching up cops all day, back in stars. she’s heard her share of macho crap — just a scratch, barely felt it, take care of someone who needs it. you should see the other guy. she’s heard this one too, but never in such a defeated tone. like stating a fact, rather than a boast. turning back to the machines monitoring leon’s heart rate, “from what i hear, the ‘other guy’ is inside you.” hastily amending, because she’d heard how it sounded far too late — “…inside your chest, i mean. i’ve seen your x-rays, that’s all i was trying to say.”

he doesn’t look well. she’s seen the scans of the strange parasite inside his chest. it had piqued her curiosity, even when the government agents sent to escort her here wouldn’t actually answer any of her questions. he looks just like anyone else — any other soldier, any other man in a bad situation, bracing for the worst. his wrist is cuffed to the bed, she notes. because they’re worried about the parasite taking control? or for another reason? who the heck is leon kennedy?

"clearly i'm not a threat to you or your bosses or anyone. you can see that. i'm not fomenting a rebellion or, i don't know, doing creepy blood magic in my basement." (she has, in fact, running a just few experiments with her own blood in her spare time, but nothing as unscientific as magic, and nobody needs to know about that. if it works, it'll be medicine. not a weapon.)