[ So much of Chris's life is grim satisfaction at best, an endless slog through the uncaring vacuum of space, meeting people at their worst possible moments and throwing himself into untold danger in an effort to rescue them from a terrible fate. If he's lucky, the good times are mostly stuffy diplomatic meetings, with legal jargon being spit out at him through the universal translator with enough monotony to make him nearly crack a tooth from stifling so many yawns. Space exploration is endless stretches of boredom interspersed with brief moments of pants-shitting terror, and that's about it.
Rarely, if ever, does he get to experience this sort of unrestrained joy, especially unrestrained joy that he was a direct cause of.
It's nice. It's really nice. It's making him feel alarmingly soft and sappy, making him happily return every kiss that lands even close to his lips. ]
Nobody's going to jail. [ Not if he can help it. ]
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Rarely, if ever, does he get to experience this sort of unrestrained joy, especially unrestrained joy that he was a direct cause of.
It's nice. It's really nice. It's making him feel alarmingly soft and sappy, making him happily return every kiss that lands even close to his lips. ]
Nobody's going to jail. [ Not if he can help it. ]