Dax didn't flinch at the outburst; if anything, the corner of his mouth ticked as though he'd been expecting it. He set his wine down and cut into his steak with slow precision. "I'm the king of Saha," he said. "What did you expect?"
Chris stared across the table, fork still in his hand. "Basic decency? Manners?"
Dax's knife slid cleanly through the steak. "From a man who rules a country?" he asked, one brow lifting. "You're setting the bar very high."
Chris stabbed a piece of vegetable a little harder than necessary. "From a man who drags someone halfway across the continent without asking? Yes. Basic decency."
Dax chewed, swallowed, and set his utensils down with a soft clink. "I did ask," he said mildly. "Just not in a way you liked. You're not a prisoner, Christopher. You're a problem I intend to solve before anyone else turns you into a headline."
Chris's mouth tightened, but he couldn't quite meet his gaze. "So you're solving me."
