#p1-03

RECORD P1-03

Knew You'd Have My Back

When Jill got home the following evening, the apartment felt different.

The silence that had greeted her the night before had given way to something warmer.

The smell of garlic, tomatoes and freshly cooked pasta drifted through the hallway, while the quiet clatter of pots and cupboards coming from the kitchen made the apartment feel unexpectedly alive.

Leon was cooking.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Jill's lips before she could stop it.

"I didn't know you could cook," she admitted, eyeing the pasta with exaggerated suspicion as she pulled out a chair at the dining table.

Leon placed both plates in front of them before taking the seat opposite her. "Government training."

Jill raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Knife skills. Heat resistance. Emotional repression."

She couldn't suppress a laugh, taking a sip of her wine. "You forgot alcoholism."

Leon lifted his own glass with complete seriousness. "Nah. That's advanced field training."

For a brief moment, they simply looked at each other before laughing quietly.

Suddenly, the apartment no longer felt empty.

Warm light spilled across the dining table, two plates had replaced the lonely routine of one, and someone moved naturally through the kitchen as though he'd lived there for years.

It wasn't quite normal, but it was close enough that neither of them questioned it.

They ate in comfortable silence, the kind that only existed between people who had long since learned that not every quiet moment needed to be filled with conversation.

The soft clink of cutlery, the low hum of the refrigerator and Leon occasionally getting up to refill their wine made the evening feel strangely... domestic.

To Jill's surprise, she didn't hate it.

It had been several months since their paths had last crossed, and the conversation drifted easily between work, mutual acquaintances, the occasional complaint about paperwork and the kind of trivial things neither of them usually cared enough to talk about.

Somehow, with Leon sitting across from her, even the ordinary felt worth mentioning.

After a while, Jill absentmindedly turned her wineglass between her fingers, watching the deep red liquid catch the warm light.

"You know..." she began quietly. "Under different circumstances... I think we would've been good friends back at the R.P.D."

Leon smiled to himself, though it faded almost as quickly as it had appeared.

His gaze lingered on the wine swirling in his glass before he answered. "Yeah..."

His voice was softer than before. "Things got... fucked up."

For just a heartbeat, the carefully built image of the confident government agent slipped.

The crooked grin.

The effortless jokes.

The easy confidence that seemed to carry him through every conversation.

All of it disappeared long enough for Jill to catch a glimpse of the man beneath it.

A man who was just as tired as she was.

Then, almost instinctively, the smile returned. Practiced. Convincing enough that most people would never have questioned it.

"But hey," Leon said, raising his glass once more, "we can still be friends."

Then a more genuine smile returned to his face. "Here's to friendship in dark times."

Jill met his gaze before gently clinking her glass against his.

She recognized the mask because she wore one herself.

Chris did. Claire did.

Almost everyone who had survived this life long enough eventually learned to smile at exactly the right moment, hiding the nightmares behind a joke before anyone could ask the wrong question.

Leon wasn't trying to fool her.

He was surviving the only way he knew how.

So instead of asking what had caused that brief crack in his composure, Jill simply smiled back, silently letting him know he didn't have to explain a thing.

For now, being there was enough.

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