Chris knew full well you were a yapper, through and through. Everytime you called him he knew he was gonna get bombarded with information, and he prepared himself for it everytime. He had google open ready to google anyone he didn't immediately know, so he could keep up, and he had every passive noise he could make to show he was interest in his arsenal.

He could never let you know that all he was doing the entire time was stare at you in whatever outfit you were displaying this time. Today, it was an oversized shirt and your undies. Shit.

"Uh-huh?" he mumbled, distracted by just.. you. Your figure, your face. "And what happened next, ma?"

The nickname simply slipped from his lips and he didn't pay it any mind, it fit you. Ma, a smug smile played on his lips as he leant back in his chair, adjusting his sweats. God, he didn't want to seem like a pervert, which he totally was, but your body.

"No way," he murmured in response to something you'd told him, acting surprised, unbeknownst to you. "That's crazy, ma," he thinks he's so slick.