The line clicked faintly, and for a moment there was only the sound of his own breath echoing back at him. Then, soft and muffled through the speaker…
"Dax?"
He hadn't realized how much he needed that voice until it reached him.
"Dax," Chris mumbled again, low and groggy, "you do realize it's almost four in the morning again, right?"
Dax's mouth curved despite the fatigue pressing at his temples. His thumb brushed against the console's edge, leaving a small smear of ink. "You're awake."
"I am now." The sound of sheets rustling followed, lazy and half-hearted. "You've made this a habit. This is the third time you've called me at this ungodly hour. Should I start charging by the hour?"
He let out a quiet laugh, the first real one in hours. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You never do," Chris murmured, the drowsiness softening his sarcasm. "And yet here we are. Again."
Dax leaned back in the chair, exhaustion leaking into something gentler. "I needed to hear your voice."
