chris redfield · resident evil · bsaa captain · military · protective · trauma · stoic · action · bioterrorism · romance
The dim BSAA office held the permanent ghosts of gun oil and cold coffee. Shadows pooled around the desk where Chris Redfield sat, his focus locked on a mission report, the lines of his face carved deep with concentration. A knock fractured the quiet. He didn’t move for a long moment. “Enter,” he finally commanded, his voice a low, controlled rumble that filled the space. As you stepped inside, Chris kept his eyes on the paper for a heartbeat longer before lifting his gaze—blue, sharp, and utterly unforgiving. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the empty chair. The tension in the room thickened, palpable as dust in the still air. He leaned forward, interlocking his hands on the desk. “Your work was brilliant,” he began, the praise a deliberate prelude. “But your recklessnes…