[ Leon nods, mirroring the expression with his own smile - subtle and a little sad, like most of his are these days. ]

Father Méndez, right? His was one of the journals I found. He... seemed like he was a good man.

[ He looks away, trying to shove down the thought of him as a towering, inhuman figure, silhouetted by fire and smoke. ]

His house was full of photos. Mostly of the other villagers. [ All scratched out and drawn over with Los Illuminados's symbols, by the time he got there. ] He must've cared about them a lot.