Claire? Leon is going to hug you now, and will not stop for at least the next five minutes. If he were the type to cry tears of joy, he'd be doing so right now.
When Leon was infected with a plaga, after a while he could feel where the thing was inside him. After all, it was only a little smaller than a football, so it was hard to miss it wriggling around in his chest, pushing against internal organs, and hugging his spine where it attempted to hijack his brain. He remembered how the tail of that thing used to drag against his stomach, which caused it to itch like crazy. He was glad to finally be rid of it, though sometimes he'd have some phantom echo, some ghost of a feeling that something inside of him was moving in ways that it should not.
And then he got the plantsuit. Which was like one massive echo of that situation. He was keenly away of every small movement of the suit, every pulse, every contraction; He could feel it feeding off of his skin, and poking around in his brain. There were days that he would swear that it put something inside of him that's moving around, occupying the space where the plaga used to be.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, there's been a constant stream of 'UGH! AUGH! WARGARBLE!' that he's forced himself to ignore. He's had to fight the urge to either rip the suit off and run around naked (but wouldn't because his holsters would chaff like crazy), or set himself on fire, neither one of which would be helpful.
He's had to suffer in silence, essentially, since talking about it would require him to further acknowledge it was happening and make him pay attention it. But he doesn't have to suffer anymore. Because he has pants. And other articles of clothing that don't have a pulse and aren't feeding off of him.
So, thank you Claire. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!
...but don't think he didn't notice the rope. He'll ask about that later.
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When Leon was infected with a plaga, after a while he could feel where the thing was inside him. After all, it was only a little smaller than a football, so it was hard to miss it wriggling around in his chest, pushing against internal organs, and hugging his spine where it attempted to hijack his brain. He remembered how the tail of that thing used to drag against his stomach, which caused it to itch like crazy. He was glad to finally be rid of it, though sometimes he'd have some phantom echo, some ghost of a feeling that something inside of him was moving in ways that it should not.
And then he got the plantsuit. Which was like one massive echo of that situation. He was keenly away of every small movement of the suit, every pulse, every contraction; He could feel it feeding off of his skin, and poking around in his brain. There were days that he would swear that it put something inside of him that's moving around, occupying the space where the plaga used to be.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, there's been a constant stream of 'UGH! AUGH! WARGARBLE!' that he's forced himself to ignore. He's had to fight the urge to either rip the suit off and run around naked (but wouldn't because his holsters would chaff like crazy), or set himself on fire, neither one of which would be helpful.
He's had to suffer in silence, essentially, since talking about it would require him to further acknowledge it was happening and make him pay attention it. But he doesn't have to suffer anymore. Because he has pants. And other articles of clothing that don't have a pulse and aren't feeding off of him.
So, thank you Claire. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!
...but don't think he didn't notice the rope. He'll ask about that later.