Sublimity ? Leon Kennedy

The diner is a quaint, one-story restaurant just a couple of blocks away from the motel—glass panel walls and windows, neon lights at the entrance, soft yellow lights illuminate the place in a subdued glow.

More cars are parked around it, the faint scent of coffee and bread wafting in the air, luring my nose in. Chatter and the whir of coffeemakers fill the place up, the clutter of utensils and plates—a waitress dressed in mustard-coloured uniform walking around, taking people's orders. A wave of comfort loosens the tension in my stomach.  If I pretend Leon is not there, it's almost like I'm back to normal.

He and I take the stools in front of the bar—a boy, probably in his teens, chirps at the other patrons, making some sort of slush. The TV attached to the wall is displaying a rerun of a sports event in 2004.

My gaze lands on Leon, his arms on the bar, the TV reflecting off his face as he watches. For the first time since I met him today, he's not darting his eyes on every corner of the room.

"What do you usually get?" I mumble.

He rubs his chin, looking over the menu displayed on the wall. "Hmm, I usually just order a cheeseburger and fries. Really gets me going and washes off the taste of protein bars." He says.

I nod, spinning on the seat.

The dining floor is filled with patrons—families  by the booths, teenagers in school uniforms talking over each other. No one is running around, or screaming. Everything is fine. Too fine. Almost perfect—and something about that fact tugs at the strings of doubt in my head. Or maybe I'm just overthinking because Leon isn't.

My eyes flicker to the darkness of the parking space outside. "You think there's zombies out there?"

He shakes his head, slouching his back. "No, the area around here is pretty well-guarded and patrolled. If there were any zombies, we'd know about it long before they got anywhere near here."

"Who's guarding it though? Any organization you know of?"

Leon scans the room first, and then scoots closer to me, leaning in. My heart skips a beat, suddenly hyper aware of the closeness. "The government has a team that specializes in containing and eliminating outbreak threats, which is why I went to New York in the first place." His voice drops lower, staring straight into my eyes. "They wanted me to check how bad it got. They've been doing a pretty good job so far in other places to keep the population safe. New York wasn't so lucky because it's too big."

My throat dries up and I gulp, attempting to ignore the warmth creeping up my cheeks. "So like the B.S.A.A.?"

He pulls away, a familiar hint of doubt shadows over his face. "You know about the B.S.A.A.?"

"Yeah? Chris and Jill are in it, right? It was established after the Racoon City incident—Did you forget that I'm literally from another universe?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I guess being an expert about confidential information is a given." He rolls his eyes. "That makes you a dangerous target, you know that?"

"Yeah, like how I know you were kind of in love with Ada at some point. Or maybe still are. Are you?"

Leon stops and shoots me a glare. "Didn't I tell you to stop telling me those things?" He narrows his eyes at me.

A pang of embarrassment hits me and I avert my gaze. Right. Maybe I should start shutting up.

He's not a video game character anymore. I have to restrain myself from talking to him like he's an avatar to be controlled and played with—he's a real person with autonomy and emotions, and warmth. Everything that happened to him is no longer just a story.