I'D DO IT ALL AGAIN.

It probably shouldn't have amused her as much as it did, seeing Chris light up like a kid in a candy store. Something like tea or coffee would've been simple enough to formulate with their equipment today, but here he was, wagging his tail at getting to do something otherwise mundane. It dimples her smile that much more. When he suggests the market, she's glad she didn't have to herself. Sure, they'd been out for business, but there was a lot of word about the Szimpla Farmer's Market in a district not far from the warehouse they were perusing, and who could blame Rebecca for being just a little curious about their goods and trades? She'd even brushed up on her Hungarian just to make things easier for them. A sage little nod and Rebecca lifts another crate of equipment   ( this time a smaller collection of some more antique lab instruments )   to settle beside everything else.

       ❝ Well we'll get to make the world's best Hungarian coffee today, then, ❞   she muses, straightening back up and adjusting her glasses while she's at it. A cock of her head and she continues leading their way through the isles.   ❝ I'll just need a few more things. I'm  glad  this isn't taking as long as I thought it would.   -Don't get me wrong, as much as I love being in a lab and around my equipment, I'd really like to enjoy some scenery while we can. ❞   After all, isn't wasn't like they got the time to. This was a rare occasion for some down time   ( and even then, they were still working, getting things for their makeshift little base before setting into business ).   A light tap of her hand to Chris' forearm and she points to another larger crate-   easily her own size.

       ❝ Anything you need while we're here? ❞

The question of his own necessities makes him blink. The crate is set down carefully, and once he's straightened out he rubs his chin in thought.

"I don't know," he says. "I don't think I'd be able to use half the equipment here..."

And frankly, as fun as it would be to use a Bunsen burner for cooking a can of beans, Chris knows that isn't practical. There's a reason Rebecca's the one outfitting their new lab even beyond her being in charge of it.

"If there's anything you can teach me for on-the-go mixes, though" -- he won't forget how clever Rebecca was coming up with the portable condenser; tablets were far easier to swallow than leaves -- "I mean, I'll take it. I have a couple days left before Hound Wolf's gotta do recon. And I figure if anyone'll get me to study anything..."

That's you, he implies.

"The B.O.W.'s out there these days..." Chris shakes his head. "I miss when all you needed to feel better was green herbs and moxie."

He finds his place behind the trolley, walking dutifully at Rebecca's side.

It was definitely a relief to get to smile and laugh so freely again. The very thing that both of them fought for, so easy in each other's company. This very sentiment is what's got her eyes keen on the equipment they filter through. There's a few things already set onto the trolley he pushes, equally careful eyes watching him every time she turns to do so. Good thing he beat her to the punch of distracting conversations;   scientific coffee was probably better than trying to explain her current process of elimination out loud. Rebecca's smile returns in full bloom, a hand raised to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose just a touch, and she starts with a small amused puff of breath.

       ❝ Did you want to find out? ❞   Because, arguably, it wasn't the first time she'd have tried.   ❝ I've used retired equipment to make cookies before. It wouldn't surprise me if coffee could be perfected through science, too. ❞   Each word is laced with gentle amusement, Rebecca turning from shelf to shelf, occasionally settling a new equipment piece or component in the trolley as they go.

       ❝ It'd be the most interesting way to break some of this in. ❞   Before they poured their focus into whatever was happening here in Europe that he'd need her for. Before they surrounded themselves with a different type of bitter than what came from a roast bean. Rebecca crouches near another shelf, leaning to and fro around a larger set that she eventually waves Chris in to lift instead.

       ❝ We'll definitely need some coffee when we have to set the lab up... ❞

Now, with shiny, new, fresh-from-a-warehouse materials.

He feels eight years old again, learning about the water cycle and why it is that bugs are important to have in the world. In the same way that he started catching spiders to bring them outside to "protect the ecosystem", the thought of being part of something bigger-- of Rebecca's science and her lab, even in something as silly as making drinks-- makes him smile.

"Okay," Chris muses, walking over to pick up the box Rebecca gestures towards and moving with special care to the trolley, "now I'm definitely glad you asked me to carry stuff for you today.

"We should pass by the market after this, then." The box is lowered with a gentle huff. Though he doubted he'd break anything, it's always a relief not to hear anything shattering. "Sherry mentioned the local teas aren't anything to sneeze at.

As much as travel had almost become second-nature to working with Chris and his team, uprooting and relocating altogether was something different altogether. Had she questioned him at all when he asked her to go with him to Europe, though? Not at all, not for a second.

It wasn't much to pack her personal belongings. You could compare her to a monk and she'd probably still have a more modest collection of items at this point. It was everything else she had to archive and back up to different databanks that took the longest and most effort in preparing the move. What she couldn't pack? Well, they were there to buy.

       ❝ That's alright, ❞   she smiles, giving him a small bump and nudge with her elbow.   ❝ You can help me carry everything back to the truck, and I'll get lunch as a thanks. ❞   There's a hint to the way her own eyes crinkle, a part of it being a joke despite the genuine probably of his muscles coming to play. Rebecca only gives him another little tap on his arm, this time with her hand, before she starts off on their little shopping journey first, leading the way into the warehouse.   ❝ Sound fair? ❞

｡° ⸻ @usmai.

"That I can do."

Their contact is someone who once helped someone who helped someone who went on a field assignment with Chris once-- a friend of a friend of a friend. It's not direct enough for them to be caught, but enough that the word BSAA still meant something, even if it was nothing more than a joke now. Chris tries not to think about it (the farce is why he left in the first place), but as they cross the threshold and enter the warehouse full of stuff, it's hard not to remember. Rebecca picks up equipment to evaluate them and all Chris sees is images of her working hard in her little lab. Then he has to shake his head out of thoughts of everything the BSAA might have done with her research, and what they might've passed onto Umbrella right after.

This is why you left, Redfield. Nobody's ever gonna use your work for B.O.W.s ever again.

...that doesn't stop the betrayal from smarting, though. Damn it. Think of something harmless.

"You know, I've always wondered," he starts, pushing the little trolley along as Rebecca walks through the metal shelves, "if you made tea or coffee out of lab equipment, how much of the process could you control?

He was literally slightly starting to panic. He should of been able to get out of the restraints but he couldn't. "What's going on?" He managed to say as a man nearby was writing down his stats and behavior. He looked towards the scientist and spoke. "Who are you? What are you doing to me?" He shouted.

The scientist began to speak as he circled around the table Piers was laying on. "Quiet. You'll raise your heart rate and blood pressure." Piers was getting frustrated with the scientist. "You say that as if I'm human." The scientist interrupted in order to reply to what he said. "Half. We managed to find a way to stabilize you and your form as a J'avo."

Piers was shocked as he noticed that a few of the other scientists were coming closer to him. The scientist that was speaking was filling a syringe with the liquid antidote what would help him. Piers just stared at the needle as another one of the scientists gave him an anesthesic through an IV that was in his human arm. He slowly began to fall asleep as the scientist placed the needle in his arm and watched his body's reaction.

Piers just wanted his life back but he didn't think it was possible. He was just glad he saved Chris because he knew that it wasn't his time. He knew the world needed him.

The intel had been vague, of course. What information they’d managed to glean through hacking into the Umbrella servers had mentioned the retrieval of a J’avo of interest from the underwater facility. “Of interest” could mean anything, his superiors had said, but Chris had always been the kind to cling onto meagre hopes.

And the hope of seeing Piers again had him taking his first S-rank assignment in a long time.

When the helicopter stops and a rope is dropped, Chris is quick to slide down it, followed by the rest of the Silver Dagger behind him. Nadia cracks wise, saying something about him being “excited”, but Chris doesn’t dignify her with a response, not with the adrenaline already coursing through his body. Once D.C. confirms he’s infiltrated security successfully, they enter the building through separate ways, swift and silent with D.C. in their ears.

Soon enough, and with D.C. at the security panel, they reach opposite ends of the lower floors of the facility.

“Do you see him?” Chris asks, peeking around the corner before tossing a smoke grenade into the next hall. The sound of coughing echoes in his ears after, and as he jumps in to take the guards out in chokeholds, D.C. answers with a, “No. Security computers can’t access the confidential files-- figured as much, though.”

“I’m seeing a lot of uglies,” Nadia says, “but none that resemble the description of Lt. Nivans you gave us. Chris, I don’t think--”

“Don’t even start,” Chris interrupts, moving deeper into the facility. “There’s got to be a trace of him here. I...”

At the end of the hall, Chris sees a door marked with JH-001. This would mean nothing to him typically, but the sight of added handprint recognition alongside the standard keycard and numberpad mechanisms speaks of advanced security methods.

“D.C.,” he starts, trying to keep his heart from jumping into his throat, “you got access to the door marked JH-001 in there? This one’s loaded with security protocols.”

“Oh, yeah. But do you want me opening that one? Who knows what’s in there--”

Chris’ tone is firm. “I got it. I just need you to get this door open.”

“If you’re sure... Nadia, I want you going to Chris’ position to back him up.”

“Roger.”

RESIDENT EVIL 6 (2012)

ethan  frowns.

chris  isn’t  supposed  to  know  that.  he’s  not  supposed  to  know  about  the  fact  that,  on  the  rare  occasion  that  he  actually  sleeps,  he  wakes  up  in  a  cold  sweat,  scared  to  fucking  death.  that’s  not  supposed  to  be  something  chris  is  aware  of.  he’d  thought  that  he’d  been  hiding  it  well  —  apparently,  he  was  WRONG.

the  offered  coffee  cup  is  accepted  with  a  nod  of  the  head,  but  the  offer  of  TALKING  is  another  story  all  together.

“  not  really.  ”    the  words  come  out  harsher  than  intended,  and  ethan  winces.  he  doesn’t  mean  to  snap.  chris  doesn’t  deserve  that.  not  when  he’s  just  trying  to  show  CONCERN.  ethan  just  can’t  stand  the  thought  of  talking  about  the  things  that  haunt  him  at  night  ;  the  hallucinations  that  appear  sometimes  even  during  the  day.  talking  about  it  makes  it  REAL.

He drinks his own coffee, then puts the mug down to place their newly heated breakfast for champions on a single plate.

With both plate and mug in hand, Chris sits at the table in the kitchen, setting the food in the middle. A soft sigh escapes him once his ass touches the chair-- you’re getting old, Redfield, so on and so forth.

“It’s a mix of things, right? ‘Nobody’ll believe me’. ‘I’m gonna sound crazy’.” A beat. “Or sometimes you just don’t want to remember, what with how fucked everything was to begin with.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Chris says, “dealing with B.O.W.s like that. I won’t force you to share anything, but... we could at least start brainstorming how to get more sleep in you.” One arm folds over the table. The other brings the mug to his lips. “Might not always get nice hotels like these, hiding from the Connections and all.”