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It's a rowdy and boisterous fight and he revels in the liberating shock of fists against flesh. In this town, with these men, a brawl is a thing of beauty.
So it's like a blow to the chest when he sees it.
A softening around the eyes, a gentle touch to Ezra's already bruising cheek, the sheer unconscious nature of the way Chris uses his body to shield Ezra's prostrate form.
So much said in one gesture.
But it's not the touch that almost stops his heart. More the certain knowledge of something he desperately wants.
And will never have.