Morning came like a negotiation.
Chris hadn't gotten much sleep after that conversation, not because of Dax, but because Dax was correct. The mind, once accused properly, became defensive.
By ten, he was dressed in ivory, the cut of his omega robe falling perfectly on his body, and one of the collars Dax loved gifting him - one Chris loved wearing. A row of diamonds and amethysts rested at his throat, cold and luminous, yelling 'expensive' in Dax's language.
In Saha, omega robes and collars were tradition, language, and power worn on the skin. People admired Chris for accepting it and wearing it with pride and power, while remaining an equal to Dax.
Nero was in the nursery.
Chris had stood there for a full minute before leaving.
