#berkh0ff

fist of all, she runs hot. second of all, she’d never consider herself a brat (but maybe… just maybe…)

history is a cycle, that much has always been obvious to claire in the way the past always catches up to her somehow. raccoon city is nothing much but rubbles and dust now, yet its ghosts still haunt claire to these days in ways she doesn't always manage to predict - like now, already far away enough for the city to be just another thing to endure until morning comes, emily's warmth radiating underneath her. claire can feel the waiting but how charged silence between them is, expecting to deliver before adrenaline wears down.

Every nerve is on edge. The captain is entirely too tense to handle anything else. Between the BSAA and their bullshit to all the recent events. It seems as if he can't ever keep up. He tilts his head to the side, cracking his neck. A roll of his shoulders proves that his muscles are so tight that it HURTS. He's just put out the cigarette and flicked the butt. If this were years ago his vice would have been much more dangerous. He can't do that anymore.

it's as if she knows. she always does though doesn't she. They are alone and the world is too quiet for his liking. Her fingertips graze along his arm, up his bicep and over that tense jaw of his. Oh how he leans into it. They've been dancing around each other for awhile now. Teetering on that very fine line of unprofessionalism.

He inhales sharply through his nose at her touch and reaches up to grasp her wrist. Eyes lock and he uses that hold on her to pull her into him. He swears there's static in his veins with the adrenaline that is pumping through him. Chris still has a hold on her when his other reaches up to pull her in for a kiss that is immediately charged a slight roughness. If he needed this then he wonders if she needed it just as much with how she melts into it. Anything at all to find some kind of release in this hellscape.