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Ada lay with her head propped up on one fist, watching Leon sleep.
He was in a deep slumber, his mouth open slightly. He was so damn cute— though he'd probably hate it if she said that. She brushed a fringe of hair away from his eye with one finger.
God, what was she doing here?
This was such a mistake. She was a mercenary, and he was, well, Leon. Sure, he wasn't that naive rookie anymore. Hell, he'd proved that and then some just in the last couple of hours. He'd changed over the years. Hardened. But he was still quintessentially Leon. Still earnest, and brave, and far too good for her, in more meaning than one.
She ran a fingertip over the scar on his shoulder, the one from when he'd taken a bullet for her bare hours after they'd met — and she'd been lying to him those few hours.
She was still a mercenary. She'd learned that there were lines she wouldn't cross, but that part of her would never change. She liked her job. She was good at her job. She had no intentions of retiring any time soon.
And it would only ever put her at odds with him.
She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then lightly touched her own forehead to the spot. She sighed, and slipped from the bed. A little crease appeared between his eyebrows, but otherwise he didn't stir. Quiet as a cat, she gathered her scattered clothes from the floor and dressed, and headed for the door.
She paused, just for a moment, with her hand on the doorknob, and looked back at where he lay. He'd hate her for this when he woke alone.
Except he wouldn't, would he?
He'd be confused, and hurt, and maybe even angry. But he wouldn't hate her.
More the fool he.
"Goodbye, Leon," she whispered. "I'll see you around."
The door gave only the softest click behind her.