open & overflow.

[antivirus]

Comments

tfln. 04.07.23.

[antivirus]

1. You wrote me a letter and I can't make out anything you wrote except the last sentence which says "tell the wolf ill meet him at sunset and that I'm sorrry"
2. I'm getting out of handcuffs then I'll give you a call
3. I crashed through a building. If that counts then yes, I went out with a bang
4. I didn't realize doing her laundry was included in the job description when we became fuck buddies

afineknight.

[antivirus]

You don't exactly have a great track record of getting me out of these things.

( hey Leon, maybe don't use your shared restraints to interrogate a guy if you'd like him to free you? whatever, fine, FINE. the guy made it, and apparently there were armored zombies involved in the rescue. he can unclench JUST a little. )

Fine. You're really committed to this knight in shining armor bit.

tfln. 04.15.23.

[antivirus]

1. All I remember is asking you to cuff my ankle to the bed so I wouldn't backflip away
2. People don't believe me when I say the bruises are from work. They just smile and say "right."
3. Sorry you got stabbed. Just wanted to know if you had plans for the knife.
4. Got any eggs? It's important

5. ...or text him!

separateways.

[antivirus]

( he could reminisce here. about back in the before times. remembering Raccoon City before it was scorched earth. how all of Chinatown would turn red and gold, so he'd take a long route home, just to see the spectacle. stop by his favorite takeout place, not really because of the food, but because of the old lady at the register who would always tell him to get married soon.

he could reminisce. but he doesn't. )

You gonna cough up the eggs or what?

gouges.

[antivirus]

Isn't egg on his face prize enough?

( get it? because... you know... whatever even through TEXT Leon can sense his hilarity is falling on DEAF EARS !!! )

What do you want.

impale. i have been laughing at that vid since last night

[antivirus]

( resident evils in the fog are FAMILY. ofc Leon trusts Sheva with such an important mission. )

There's 4 eggs and 2 of us. I like those odds, don't you?

tricksie.

[antivirus]

Better company than traumatized kids and that asshole from New Mexico. Gee, thanks.

expiar.

[antivirus]

So when this kicks in and Ashley wakes up she probably won't stab me again.

( does that count as a status update?? technically right? ??? )

[expiar]

Oh, I can't promise you that.

[ ha ha. because leon is so stabbable, or whatever the joke is here. anyway, that little update is kind of concerning. not... unexpected, considering what they're dealing with, but it does kind of pluck a little at the guilt and regret he's been carrying around for - a while. consequences of his own actions, etc.

he should probably do the decent thing though and offer some reassurance. ]

You got it to her quickly, Sancho.
The antigen will do its job.

[ it's getting to his lab that might prove a little more difficult, but he has faith in leon. ]

dyinglights.

[antivirus]

Life's rough. You get used to it.

This place isn't that bad, anyway.

[dyinglights]

oh yeah ?

compared to what

cuz i dont know about you

but im stuck here with the literal guy who wants nothing but to get really familiar with my guts

not necessarily my idea of a cool and fun time

tfln. 05.26.23.

[antivirus]

1. Worse things to lose than a jacket, but it was a nice jacket.
2. Where's the biological superiority in 18 extra eyes, anyway? Contact fittings would be a complete nightmare.
3. You think they use chainsaws for landscaping or should I start getting concerned.

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT FLAVOR.
4. How soon is too soon for face off puns.
5. All right, you're on. First to six stuns wins.

𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴.

[antivirus]

Let's just say this career path chose me. I doubt that'll change any time soon.

[dyinglights]

welcome leon

[antivirus]

Haunting RPD? Or is this a different welcome to something I don't want.

1/2

[dyinglights]

hi idiot

[dyinglights]

is the offer still on the table or what

[dyinglights]

whats up with you and ada

you guys are always so weird in trials

[antivirus]

She's a snake in a tight dress. Better to know what she's up to than let her surprise you with it.

( 🚨 somebody sounds BITTER 🚨 )

onthejuice. 🧃

[antivirus]

I'm good on the gym routine. I prefer not busting out of all my shirts like the Incredible Hulk. But if you're actually some bioweapon and never said anything, I'm hurt.

So we're clear, this is all still hypothetical. But good news, just one hypothetical hand, not both.

( and in this hypothetical he already tried to get his stupid knife and couldn't REACH!!! 😤 so, he needs new hypothetical ideas. )

[dyinglights]

fuck you

[antivirus]

( don't engage don't engage don't -- )

This motivated by something in particular or just felt like sharing.

( damn it )

[antivirus]

You have three of the same sweater.

( not that he's an expert on coed girls. but he would have figured she had a closet full of different sweaters, not three of the same. )

[professionalcaptive]

[ She'd be laughing right now if she wasn't trying to be serious. Clothing and fashion is VERY serious business Leon, you don't even know ]

Of course I do - spares, in case one of them gets a rip, or something spills on it like getting splashed by a mud puddle. I usually get them in different colors if I like the style, at least though. You can't tell me you don't have backups to your backups, right?

11.01.24.

[antivirus]

1. Apparently it's Halloween. You could have warned me.
2. The movie was fine. Unless it was supposed to be scary. In that case, it was bad.
3. She picked trick and somehow I'm the bad guy.

dead by daylight.
4. Step one, make a dozen smoke bombs. Step two, rig everything in his office to explode. Step three, maybe put up a wire tap so we can watch.
5. For the last time, I am not helping you plot revenge over a pumpkin.

... or text him!

dyinglights.

[antivirus]

I have a radio that doesn't work, a bullet proof vest that doesn't do shit against harpoons, and a bunch of empty pockets.

[antivirus]

( this isn't exactly how he intended to spend his evening. when he'd scheduled his session, somehow the pumpkins and bats and Monster Mash playing on loop in every store had been lost on him. to be fair, he'd only landed about 48 hours ago. much of that had been spent in the catatonic sleep that making it out of a high stakes situation relatively unscathed. how he didn't notice it ahead of time... well... probably nihilistic depression, what do you want from him? all this to say, Halloween had really crept up on him out of nowhere.

and he could have ignored it. gotten laid, gotten drunk, passed out more. ignored the texts from Hunnigan about scheduling a debriefing. actually, he's still ignoring the texts from Hunnigan about scheduling a debriefing. but the rest of the night has turned out surprisingly well, considering he was completely unprepared.

there's something pretty pathetic about paying a prostitute to watch him hand out Halloween candy. he's aware, but he will add that to the pile of self loathing to drink about later. it is rare he is in a halfway decent mood, it'd be a shame to waste it. the normalcy of a stupid Halloween movie, a trickling parade of trick or treaters, a warm body next to him in the downtime. Mariette isn't bad company, either — it's lucky she doesn't know she could charge extra for that. )

Why do people like these movies? ( he says, expression unimpressed, as a scantily clad coed runs shrieking from a murderer without looking where she's going. he understands there is supposed to be appeal, but whatever capacity he had to enjoy a slasher flick must have been firmly exterminated after Raccoon City. it's been a solid ten minutes since the doorbell went off, which does make him wonder if they've seen the last of the slow hoard of children. which means he is contemplating the second part of the evening's entertainment, the hand he's kept on her thigh (like he needs to be physically attached to someone to truly believe there's somebody else there) rubbing a little higher, thumb dipping on the inside of her thigh. )

[doxie]

[ halloween candy is definitely a new one, but all things considered it is, like Leon, benign, which is funny, given that he isn't actually. he's been, for all intents and purposes, a perfect gentleman, hasn't whipped out any unexpected violence or otherwise done anything weird, but Mariette has some idea of what he's capable of. they don't tell her much, because it's all on a need to know basis, and she doesn't need to know much to do her job. she knows he's some kind of deadly government prop, and maybe there's some kind of fucked up kinship there, since she knows a thing or two about being a prop. exhibit a. she shows up on his doorstep with a bag of candy, the kind that'll prevent the neighborhood kids from referring to him as the raisin guy, her dress a little too short. no costume; she's not very festive.

when it becomes apparent that Leon is serious about handing out candy instead of getting right into it, Mariette relaxes into the couch, kind of comfortable in his space now. they've been meeting up for awhile now -- not long enough that he's started spilling secrets Umbrella might find pertinent, but long enough that there's a degree of familiarity between them. ]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown was always an option, [ she points out dryly, paying a lot more attention to the hand on her thigh than to the movie. the slasher films don't quite interest her either, although watching something that isn't straight up pornographic is fairly novel. sometimes Leon just fucks her and sends her on her way, but sometimes their hangouts feel like dates, and that part she doesn't quite get. there's nothing wrong with him that she can discern; and she's seen an entire gamut of personality disorders from her johns. he could get a date if he wanted. she definitely doesn't spend any time thinking about this outside of this place. ] Maybe you should turn your light out. Put the rest of the candy in a bowl outside.

[ and in case he's not getting the message, she spreads her legs a little wider, the dress riding higher up her pale thighs. ]

i'll never turn down a dare

[antiarmor]

used my power pack to charge my vibrator so i didn't have to unplug my switch or my galaxy lamp.

TECHNOLOGY!

[antivirus]

( this has to be a misfire. right? Ashley is ... Ashley, but are they really on this level of companionship that she feels comfortable bringing up her sex toys? )

Congratulations, though I think the problem could have been solved by walking as far as a second outlet.

[antivirus]

( is it positivity or jack knife utility? get the job done, it is all he's capable of anymore. it is not an option to fail, and he's too stubborn to even contemplate the possibility. he'll do the job or he'll die trying, wondering after hypotheticals is just a waste of brainpower. either way, not exactly a persistence that should be entirely admired; though it wouldn't be fair to say it didn't show results.

the place is a ghost town, disheveled at best and destroyed at worst. like there's nobody left here but ghosts of how it used to be, just fingerprints in the dust and forgotten notes left in whatever mass exodus forced everyone out. to be fair, the faceless monsters and giant chasms everywhere you turn, it's not the most accommodating of neighborhoods. but how did it get like this? and more to the point, why has it been allowed to persist when he's one of the only living pieces of evidence that most times it's easier to go scorched earth than invest in fixing anything. all the same, he feels some strange pang of something to drip all over this room like a drowned rat. somebody had cared at some point, when they picked this ugly carpet. painted the doors badly, tucked the sheets just so.

Maria is back, and he takes the towel. it smells like the inside of a moth-ball ridden closet when he tries to dry his face. the pressure at his back surprises him, he stiffens on instinct. it shouldn't be a surprise, but he's more used to choke holds and maulings at this point. lots of maulings, just a little bit ago, actually! it is obvious and intentional as the strain in his muscle deflates. letting it happen, even though he's more than capable of drying himself off. or, more accurately, they're both equally incapable of it — because nothing he's wearing is going to dry any time soon, and no amount of towels and gentle pressure is bound to change that. )

If that's the case, I think we'll both have bigger problems. ( no point in trying to find things in a world set for biblical destruction, after all. he tries to wring out his shirt. it splatters on his shoes, a cruel cosmic joke. it's truly a hopeless gesture, somehow makes him more cold, now that the fabric isn't plastered directly to his skin and air sneaking in like an icy fire. ) I thought we had plans, but I guess I'll make an exception if you've got Monopoly.

( it's a gentle out, if she wants it — he can strip down somewhere she won't get an eyeful. he doesn't even have to go far! the bathroom has a door. it's not exactly a move, he's just being practical. he'll drip less without the sodden clothes. she's a flirt, that does not mean she's required to tolerate a relative stranger getting close to naked in her presence. )

[dipdyes]

No, no Monopoly.

( tiny little houses and precious silver pieces and a neat spread of paper money wouldn't have lasted for seconds with whatever happened here, in this place. it feels like--somewhere she should recognize, and maybe that's the real reason that she's holed up here, where an old room at the rundown hospital or any number of abandoned apartments between here and there would have served their purpose. something beautiful and menacing about this hotel, something that feels like it needs protecting and offers protection all the same. pretty memories never last for long, because they catch fire too easily; but surely someone used this room for more than just trying to feebly dry a man from the torrential downpour outside.

the towel, at least, she drops to the bed; a plume of dust pillows and wafts off with even just the weight of it, which might also mean the dampness of the towel is now caked in it, but it doesn't matter. he's right: they had plans, up to a certain point.

which means he shouldn't mind the hands that wander, slow fingertips that feel for the wet hem of his shirt, plastered to his skin. there's a funny little splat of sound when they come apart, and despite his height, it doesn't take much except a lift onto her toes to start to roll the material away from his waist, up his stomach, peeling and tugging towards his ribs. )

You never said what we'd do after you got out of all your clothes.

( it's neat, matter-of-fact: just like he offers her an out, and she doesn't take it, he deserves one all the same. teasing, her gaze lifts, but she's not going to be able to get the shirt off entirely without his arms playing along with the movement; her fists give a pointed tug up to indicate. )

Got any fun, naked games in mind? ( her smile curves, a slow, curious flutter of her lashes, and if he lets her, she'll peel and smack the rest of that rain-soaked shirt right off his head. ) I know a couple we could try if you're up for it.

redeceive.

[antivirus]

( he's not made for recon work. case in point: being the first boots on the ground when the president's daughter had been spotted in the bush-wilds of Spain quickly spiraled into him against an entire village with only a hand gun, tac knife, and first aid spray. you'd think STRATCOM would have learned. but no — here he is on another reconnaissance mission, tracking a potential trail for lingering plagas potentially trickling out of Valdelobos. Hunnigan insists he take the beat because he has more knowledge than anyone else on the team. and that might be true, but he's more made for cutting swaths through things than keeping a quiet eye. Krauser had trained him in brute force brutality, not so much espionage. stealth isn't the same as blending in, and he feels like a sore thumb swimming in and out of crowds and spending any amount of time with civilians.

hell, he forgot his cover story trying to check into his accommodations. you're not supposed to have to look at your own identification to know who you're supposed to be. he'd about blown his cover before he actually investigated anything. instead, someone swanned against his side, a familiar note of perfume and red. easily joked about him forgetting his own name when he was jetlagged, providing the exact alias on his credentials for the concierge to look up his room. how Ada knew who he was supposed to be better than he did, Leon has no idea. the girl behind the counter asks if they need two keys, calls Ada Mrs. Greco as they leave. his cover is supposed to be married, but his wife was not supposed to be checking in with him. it's honestly incredible how she convinced a stranger of so much with only a casual conversation.

she saved his ass and he knows it. which means he owes her one — and Ada always knows exactly what she wants out of him. she probably knows already, and he's just along for the ride until she shares with the class. she doesn't drop the act to the elevator, either, arm tucked around his. tapping his bicep fondly to remind him he has to hit the button or they'll be standing here forever. he wants to ask what are you up to, but he can't until they have some margin of secrecy. so he plucks the elevator button, and maybe he's learning how to play the role, because his hand lands at the small of her back when the doors feather open for them.

(it's that or he just wants to.) )

[redeceive]

( the thing with espionage is once it's gotten its teeth into you, there's really no way out of that grasp.

there's a part of her that misses the doe-eyed rookie she'd first met back in raccoon city, eager to help and all the more eager to lap up any lick of attention she'd offered as their paths wove together time and time again—whether purposefully, she'd never tell. or maybe she'd let her own guard down, let herself grow a bit too fond to the idea of being trusted, knowing the inevitable would follow where he'd learn the hard way that maybe it is better to bite the hand that feeds.

nevertheless, her original intention had been to meet him at the hotel later that evening alongside the drop off of a freshly-pressed suit courtesy of one of her contacts for the upcoming gala. however, sore thumb would be quite the understatement from what she'd witnessed since he'd arrived in the city, and the last thing she needed was any unwanted attention drawn to him, and consequently the pair of them, before they'd even gathered so much as a scrap of intel.

she drifts with ease through the lobby doors, professionally donning the appearance of a woman both tired herself from a long trip there but doused in relief to begin their stay nonetheless, waving off his floundering as if merely a wife all too used to stepping in when his tongue couldn't quite find itself as sharply as he might like. there's even the telltale glint of a ring on the appropriate finger as she presses a hand affectionately to his arm, warmth courteously beaming from her as the clerk hands them two key cards, and nods toward the elevators with a pleasant 'enjoy your stay.'

the thing with playing a character, she's learned, is to integrate it into her own mannerisms as much as possible, especially considering you never really know who's watching (or listening, a quick flit of her gaze in the elevator toward the camera in the corner.) they've always been quite the team, whether either of them cares to admit it, his brute force and her touch of finesse, and he doesn't need to ask for her to recognize the look, but another soft swipe of her thumb serves a silent assurance that she'll quell any questions he might have once she's sure they're alone. doors span open once more before them once the lift reaches their floor, and there's the faintest hint of a rise at the edge of her lips at the warmth of his hand settling at her back. in character or out, once again, a spy never tells.

hand curls all the more snug about his bicep as they head towards the room, giving an appreciative squeeze before handing him his own copy of the key card. he's always kept himself fit, but he's bulkier now than she remembers. a little rougher around the edges. ) You've been taking care of yourself, Mr. Greco. ( tone laced with a hint of teasing, but sincere nonetheless, greeted by a lone, sprawling king bed once he chimes them into their room—twin robes left folded at its end. )

dipdyes.

[antivirus]

Not sure I buy that.

( he plays well at cold blooded, but honestly. he'd have to be dead to not see the patently obvious appeal. more fun on the strip side than the search side, but since they go hand in hand she's surely not giving herself enough credit here. )

Just so we're clear, I haven't had a badge for six years. You don't have to hide anything on my account.

Is the dressing room less creepy than the front? Never would have guessed neon could read ominous.

[dipdyes]

it's creepy in a wholesome way. some of the mirrors are still intact.
costumes left behind. you can see if there's anything that gets you going.

( and, because she's curious-- )

what happened to your badge, handsome? did you quit?