Nonstop, all fucking week, Leon's been dealing with the soundscape of his nightmares. It started small - stomping, heavy, deliberate footsteps in the halls, coming and going, too loud to be any of his fellow kidnapping victims. That alone would've set his teeth on edge, but then came the sounds of guttural groaning, the chanting ("corazón, corazón, gloria las plagas"), the distant sirens.
He remains stoic through all that, mostly seeming a little more jumpy and quick to startle than usual. It's not real and he knows it. It's not easy to ignore, but he's done harder things. It's only when he catches a glimpse of a small figure dressed in blue go darting past him in the hallway, sobbing with fear, that he finally breaks down.
"Sherry?!"
In the moment, he doesn't think about how by now she'd be almost as old as Ashley, not the twelve year old she was when he saw her last. Without hesitation, he runs after her, rounding the corner and very nearly running into whoever else happens to be there at the moment. Or actually running into them, if they're particularly unlucky.
Later on, in the greenhouse he resumes his training drills to try to get some of the anxious energy out - very carefully setting his knife aside so as not to panic and stab someone if the house starts to get to him again and shadowboxing bare-handed instead. He's just starting to work up a sweat when a voice comes from behind.
"Getting sloppy without me there to whip you into shape, rookie."
Leon whirls around, catching sight of a reflection that isn't his in the glass - a red beret, a scarred face, a disapproving sneer - but when he blinks it's gone, leaving him staring at his own wild-eyed expression transposed against the dark of the mountainscape on the other side of the window. He breathes out, slowly, and sits down, rubbing his hands over his face.
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He remains stoic through all that, mostly seeming a little more jumpy and quick to startle than usual. It's not real and he knows it. It's not easy to ignore, but he's done harder things. It's only when he catches a glimpse of a small figure dressed in blue go darting past him in the hallway, sobbing with fear, that he finally breaks down.
"Sherry?!"
In the moment, he doesn't think about how by now she'd be almost as old as Ashley, not the twelve year old she was when he saw her last. Without hesitation, he runs after her, rounding the corner and very nearly running into whoever else happens to be there at the moment. Or actually running into them, if they're particularly unlucky.
Later on, in the greenhouse he resumes his training drills to try to get some of the anxious energy out - very carefully setting his knife aside so as not to panic and stab someone if the house starts to get to him again and shadowboxing bare-handed instead. He's just starting to work up a sweat when a voice comes from behind.
"Getting sloppy without me there to whip you into shape, rookie."
Leon whirls around, catching sight of a reflection that isn't his in the glass - a red beret, a scarred face, a disapproving sneer - but when he blinks it's gone, leaving him staring at his own wild-eyed expression transposed against the dark of the mountainscape on the other side of the window. He breathes out, slowly, and sits down, rubbing his hands over his face.