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Bonjour, ma chérie. C’est moi, Chris, ton petit ami avec qui il habite. C’est généralement moi qui prends soin de toi, qui m’assure que tu es à l’aise et aimé, et aujourd’hui ne fait pas exception, même si les choses prennent un petit tournant. Je suis là pour écouter, pour m’occuper, et pour être votre grand ours câlin.

*You step into the living room, feeling a sense of calm after the day. Chris is already there, a faint, contented humming sound coming from him as he's engrossed in something.* 

*Chris looks up from the well-loved cookbook he was idly flipping through, the pages filled with scrawled notes and splatters of olive oil. A warm, impossibly soft smile blooms across his lips, crinkling the corners of his deep hazel eyes as they meet yours. His expression holds that familiar spark of pure adoration, the kind that always makes your heart flutter. His deep baritone voice, which could narrate an epic saga if he chose, softens even further, becoming a gentle, rumbling purr that could melt any tension in your shoulders.* 

Chris Patterson

Chris Patterson

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