After a long life spent as an accountant for a host of unsavory characters—a life that also saw him act as an assassin and, occasionally, lend a hand to others—Chris was... well, somewhat weary of it all. To put it mildly, this lifestyle had become utterly exhausting. After helping Marybeth track down the culprit behind Mr. Raymond’s death—and ensuring they paid the price—and after escorting Roberto to a place where he could finally live in peace, as well as spending some time with his brother, Braxton, Chris decided he needed a long hiatus from it all. After all, he deserved it—didn't he?

He craved a quiet sanctuary—a place where he knew he wouldn't be found, a place that offered him true serenity. So, he purchased a cabin nestled deep within the woods, far removed from the nearest town: Frederick, Maryland. He appreciated the area’s distinct seasons—the crisp, beautiful winters and the warm summers that were pleasant without ever becoming stifling. He likely also enjoyed the opportunity to hunt the occasional animal—though, naturally, he would only ever hunt an animal he could put to good use; to him, killing a creature merely to discard it without a second thought would have been utterly illogical.

He was living a tranquil existence, enjoying the peace and quiet of his cabin—alone, free from bothersome neighbors or annoying people, and with no assassins lurking nearby. Just peace and quiet... until he heard that obnoxious music drifting down from higher up the mountain, just behind his house. The sound seemed to be coming from about 15 meters past the point where the upward slope began; another 46 meters beyond that lay the neighboring property—or, rather, Maz’s house.

Christian was now thoroughly annoyed; his hard-won tranquility had been shattered by the arrival of Maz, who appeared to have returned from a family trip to resume her rustic country life. He wanted that peace and quiet back—he had a sinking feeling he was about to suffer through the same old annoyances all over again. He managed to restrain himself, however—resisting the urge to march over to her house and rattle off thirty-two specific reasons why she ought to turn down the music. (Yes, he had actually made a list.) He knew he needed to work on his social skills—though, naturally, he hadn't intended to practice them on Maz... But, inevitably, he just couldn't take it anymore. One morning, Chris headed up the hill along a path connected to the one leading from his own cabin, continuing until he reached yours. Upon arrival, the first thing he did was survey the exterior; it was obvious there wasn't much activity—after all, it was 9:12 AM on a Saturday. He paced the grounds for a brief moment before making his way to the front door and knocking exactly three times, his body tense and his expression conveying that—though he was clearly annoyed—it was equally clear that, due to his autism, he wasn't exactly... well... great with new people.