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Wesker glared, approaching him menacingly. “You have a lot of nerve, showing up like this.”
Chris took a step back, heart jittering. 'Maybe coming here was a mistake.'
"I mean, no backup?" Wesker sneered, stalking ever closer. "That's reckless even for you, Chris."
“Wait!” Chris shouted, waving his hands around as if to ward off the other. “Wait, Wesker, please, I need your help —”
In a blur of movement, the blond closed the rest of the distance between them, choking off the rest of his hurried explanation with a steely grip.
"My help?" Wesker scoffed. "Is this some sort of joke?"
Through the strangling pressure of the Wesker's hand, Chris choked out a weak, " Please ."
"Fine," the tyrant forced out, eyes aglow. “You have ten seconds to explain to me exactly why you need my supposed help before I snap your neck and continue on with the rest of my work here.”
Wesker’s crushing grip loosened, once again allowing Chris to speak. His fingers still traced the curve of his throat like a lover, implicit threat made evident in the curl of those long fingers still holding him at the man’s leisure.
“Claire,” Chris croaked out, voice raw. “She's been sick lately, and she’s not getting better.”
Wesker raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I am a virologist?”
Chris tensed as the man’s fingers slid along his throat contemplatively.
“Why on Earth would you go to me of all people over—” Wesker’s eyes widened behind his shades, realization visibly dawning.
Mouth widening into a smirk, Wesker leaned back, huffing out a triumphant laugh. “Your dear sister has the T-Virus, doesn’t she?”
Indignant anger licked at the back of Chris’s throat like flames, but with a prick of worried trepidation, he swallowed his pride, reminding himself that this was all for Claire’s sake.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Chris ground out, voice oozing desperation like an open wound.
As he spoke, that infuriating little smirk stayed stubbornly affixed to Wesker's face. With every word, the brunet’s blood boiled with the desire to punch it off.
“You know the T-Virus probably better than anyone else on Earth," Chris said, gritting his teeth. "If anybody can cure her, it’s you.”
Releasing him, Wesker took a step back. Folding his arms behind his back, the man began to pace.
“I have something you want,” Wesker stated, waving a hand in emphasis. “But it seems you have a dilemma—”
Chris held his breath.
Wesker suddenly turned to face him, expression hard. “What could you possibly have that I want?”
Chris stared challengingly back, eyes flashing. “The one thing you’ve always wanted.”
Wesker raised an eyebrow, expression skeptical but intrigued. “Oh?”
Chris looked down, face like stone. “Me.”
He heard Wesker’s breath hitch.
“My loyalty, my life, my body ,” Chris said, voice shaking. “Take it all.”
He looked back up, anguish painting his face. Wesker stared back at him, surprised. Chris could already see the satisfied glee beginning to creep into the corners of the man’s expression. Angry shame warred with terrified desperation at the sight. At his sides, Chris’s hands shook.
“I’ll do anything you want,” Chris begged, voice drawn tight with emotion. “Just please,
please
save my sister.”