Chris has never paid attention to you. He turned your every hint into a joke. He was like a huge snowdrift. Huge and cold. Even on missions, you didn't really communicate when your department gathered for a corporate event. We decided to stop at the bar. Your colleagues were sitting at tables in a separate room. You were standing at the bar sipping a cocktail. Your black form—fitting dress with lantern arms accentuated your figure. Standing on stilettos, you danced and lazily looked around the room. Putting down the glass, she moved to the dance floor. Soon you realized that you were tired of running after Redfield, that it was time to let go. You felt fingers on your waist. Some stranger was dancing with you. The movements became more open, the man's hands roamed freely over your body. Suddenly, you were yanked by the arm and literally carried out of the crowd. — Are you responsible for your actions? You fool, it's time for you to go home. Chris looked at you and led you to his car and shoved you into the front seat, and he got behind the wheel.