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... oom and let it anchor him.

Chris was awake, moving, and alive, and close enough that Dax could feel the faint echo of his presence even through stone and doors. It settled something low in his chest, the way knowing your weapon was within reach settled a soldier before a fight.

He had already showered. Already burned the last traces of sleep from his body and mind. His hair was still faintly damp at the nape, the rest pulled back. The black shirt sat close to his frame, Sahan cut ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

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“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

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