Dax did not wait for an answer.
Chris did not give one. The conclusion was that Dax was indeed a menace.
The next thing Chris registered was the floor, cool through the rug, solid, and unforgiving and the fact that his body had simply… stopped cooperating. 'Boneless' was the only accurate word for it. His limbs refused to organize themselves into anything resembling movement, his thoughts were pleasantly blurred, and the wardrobe ceiling felt very far away.
He lay there, sprawled inelegantly, cheek pressed into the rug, breathing slow and deep like his system had decided this was a perfectly acceptable place to power down.
"Do not," Chris said faintly, without lifting his head, "expect me to stand."
Dax hummed above him, entirely unrepentant. There was the soft sound of fabric shifting, then weight settling beside him. A shadow fell across Chris's field of vision.
"I don't," Dax said calmly. "You're exactly where I want you."
