In the ambience of a lone fire did the agent emerge from the fog, a storm walking. As far as Chris was concerned, there were no walls or steel plates to indicate he took the wrong turn, and so he continued on with eyes scanning the surroundings. No one seemed present, yet he knew the fog to spit those only as close as needed.
He motioned passed the fire just as it snapped, uncaring for the saftey provided. Once through the small line of trees, a silhouette of another figure made it within sight as he spoke.
"Captain."
Chris stopped short with arms crossed, staring back at his disgruntled reflection in shades.
"Heard you made it out of a trial."
Captain Wesker looked up at the sound of his comrade's voice. "Oh, Chris," he greeted, audibly pleased to see him, before briefly looking back down at the bandages he was tying around his arm.
The injury that he'd wrapped with them with eons ago was long gone, but he found he liked the sensation of them, so he'd kept them. The bandages were getting dirty, however, so he'd discarded of the old ones and was winding some new ones around his arm.
He tied it off and stood up to face Chris.
"I did, yes. That marks my seventh so far. The Eyrie of Crows, the others called that place. It's quite bright, there. And I met the Huntress once again - she's still very much the lovely woman I saw the first time," he commented. Then:
"What about you? How have things been on your end?"
