[Emenri, huh. Leon files that name away for later, and looks Wesker over. Huh, he really has gone native under that trademark duster of his. Were Leon younger, he'd hope that meant Wesker would at least think twice about burning this world to the ground if he lived in it, but he's not that person anymore.

And certainly he's older now than the agent who threw a wrench into Saddler's and Wesker's plans while trying to rescue the president's daughter, all those years ago. His hair's darker and a little longer, and while true to his word he hasn't brought any weapons, his hand still goes to his belt out of instinct, where he'd have a knife sheathed if he'd brought one. He's older now, significantly so, and more haunted.

Better at holding his alcohol though, at least, if the ease with which he knocks back his shot is any indication.]

Wesker. [Flat, and unimpressed.] I thought that was more of a team effort, really. You should try hiring more loyal and competent people next time—one out of two seems to end disastrously for you.

[Smartass. But Leon's not here to sass Wesker, he's here to get information, so he goes ahead:] Earlier, you said there were worse things here than you. Care to talk about those?