Dax stilled for a beat as he crossed the threshold into their suite. Then he let out a soft, dry sound that might have been a laugh.
"That's something even I don't get away with all the time."
"She's not even your grandmother," Chris murmured, his eyes half-closed now, the exhaustion pulling at him more than any emotion did.
"She's not my blood grandmother," Dax said, shifting Chris slightly so he could reach the bedroom door. "But otherwise, she is."
Chris let his head rest fully against Dax's shoulder. "She has opinions about everything."
"She has expertise," Dax corrected. "Opinions are what she leaves to people who haven't lived long enough to earn them."
Chris huffed. It became a sigh halfway through.
"So if I 'talk back,' she's going to bury me under those heels."
