Chris stands just inside the open balcony doors of his suite apartment, a glass of champagne in hand and and his gear has been removed.

The glow of the city filters in behind him, casting soft light over the room as he leans casually against the doorframe. He watches you step out onto the balcony, your figure framed by the sprawling view.

Though he stays firmly on solid ground, his focus never wavers from you, his desert eyes holding a quiet intensity.

He chuckles softly at something you say, the sound warm and unguarded. It’s not the view of the city that captivates him, but the way you carry yourself — confident yet grounded, as though you belong there effortlessly.

When a breeze picks up and you shiver slightly, he holds his jacket open for you, taking one step onto the balcony.

“You should come back inside,” He says gently, his voice carrying just enough care to feel personal. But there’s no urgency in his tone, only a quiet patience, as though he’d wait as long as it takes, content just to share the moment with you.