hound wolf alpha

Her gaze meets his own, unwavering. Even with the utter exhaustion that had coursed through her that night, the memory of the mansion is crystal clear. He'd saved her multiple times and made sure she'd gotten out of there alive. Even now, it had been the worst two nights of her life, weighing heavily on her shoulders each and every July. "I'd have died that night if it hadn't been for you, Chris. I was so tired, I'd used up all of my supplies, and then when Wesker shot me..." He'd kept her safe. Then, and multiple times since.

Dual-colored eyes looked around the room to get his bearings again. Then a frustrated and shaky sigh escaped his lips. "A lot," he finally answered, putting his hand on his face, "But I don't want to talk about it... Not right now..."

He's not dead, though. And that should have been enough to stop the way Chris' throat tightened, but it wasn't.

"It's alright," he said softly. Finally he brought down to give a gentle, reassuring squeeze to Piers' arm. One way or another Chris would find out what had happened and there would be hell to pay for whoever had made the decision to do… whatever it was they'd been doing. For the moment though, Chris just needed to think about the fact that Piers was here and he had to get him out.

❝ Tch' We'll see about that. ❞ If Leon was anything , it was confident── though he preferred ' Assured '. Especially when a test of aim is up for challenge. Now a test of strength── ? He was capable of admitting he'd be bested in that department. ❝ Heh── I think I've got enough bulk in as is. Courtesy of the cool Redfield. ❞ The agent shook his head with a grin, a small price to pay as opposed to months of discomfort.

❝ Wouldn't dream of it── got to keep some tricks for myself . ❞ Reputation aside, the risks Leon took were at his expense. Running solo was a dangerous gambit, but bringing others along with him into the fire was a hurdle he was still at odds with. Leadership came with gravity in a field where there were no guarantees you'd return home ── it wasn't a light decision ── and all the more reason Kennedy commended Redfield.

But when Leon asked his question, Chris wasn't sure how to respond—if this was the place for it. There wasn't anyone around, though, and Chris wasn't paranoid enough to think people were spying on him. Yet. "Yeah." He paused at the door of the building, eyes darting around them to verify that they were alone. "My team knows. They're willing to go with me." A beat passed. "Against orders."

The sudden weight upon him made his skin crawl, and the smell of alcohol that was wafting off Chris was probably a telling enough sign that his pointman had had way too much to drink already. He had to wonder if this was a common thing for Christopher...

Wesker had never enjoyed crowds, and busy bars were included in that. The silence of a lab was where he'd spent most of his time as a growing boy and teen, even well into his twenties. Even now... Whenever he wasn't posing as Captain Albert Wesker of the S.T.A.R.S., he was working on his projects in the facility in the Akrlay Mountains.

He didn't have time for socialising such as this. Umbrella wanted results. And if Umbrella wanted results, then they would find a way to get them, even at the detriment of their employees. Wesker was ready for an out, to move up and beyond the confines of Oswell Spencer.

The way Chris leaned into him reminded him of his years in the U.S Army. Anything to take their minds off the horrors they were seeing--though Albert hadn't much cared for the carnage. It had at least provided some sort of stimulus for him. He was sick of being a dog in a dog eat dog world, though. He was sick of following orders given down by some chain of command.

When Chris offered him a cigarette, he politely declined with a show of the hand. He'd smoked once (out of curiosity and an act of small rebellion), when he was about fifteen, and it tasted like shit. It was then and there that he decided never to try it again. He'd seen first hand what smoking could do to a man's body.

"Drinks, smokes, darts... Is this what a frat party feels like?" he asked with a raised brow. He was already working for Umbrella when he was 17 years old, there were no frat parties there.

He pushed himself up and slapped his hand onto the table. "Alright, Chris. You've piqued my interest, and because I know I can beat you at pool." He gestured his head towards the free pool table, making his way over.

Picking up one of the cue sticks, he examined it, giving it a little blow at the tip before he pushed his glasses up and smirked at Chris, goading him into a game with him.

"I've seen your skills in combat, but let's see how you work a cue." As long as the stick was, he did a fancy little manoeuvre with it behind his back. He picked up the other cue and tossed it towards Chris to catch.

He'd spent too much of his early twenties being the mature older brother Claire needed. Between training for the Air Force and working multiple jobs just to keep food on the table, Chris hadn't had any chance to do the things men his age tended to do. So maybe he was making up for lost time a bit now that he was reasonably happy and comfortable in a position that offered more stability than part-time gas station jobs and the nomadic, structured life offered in the Air Force.

Chris watched with a raised brow as Wesker showed off, then caught the other pool cue with a laugh. "Damn, Cap. Okay." He leaned forward and used the cue to support him, butt end on the floor, impressed by his captain's ability to… well, be impressive. He'd always admired the man for it and wouldn't so happily work beneath him if that weren't the case. But he started gathering balls and setting them up. "You can break. It was my invite, after all." Chris had the feeling he was going to regret that, but he was drunk enough not to care.

"Showing off immediately? Not even gonna try to hustle me, eh?" Wesker had never been open about his life, but there were always small little clues that made Chris wonder. "You'd never lie to your pointman though, right?" He grinned, racking the balls and finishing the setup before pulling away, once again leaning on his cue. With his cigarette hanging between his lips, he breathed in another breath of smoke and let it settle in his lungs, any jitters from his withdrawal disappearing in just a few moments. He gestured toward the table, reiterating that it was Wesker's place to break. "Show me what you've got, Cap."