"No," Chris said, because 'no' was efficient, and he had paperwork to do and a baby trying to climb him like he'd recently discovered the concept of ambition.
Nero had reached the stage where he understood he possessed limbs, leverage, and free will. Which meant he was currently attempting to scale Chris's torso with the focus of someone trying to overthrow a government.
Chris kept one arm hooked around Nero's middle - half support, half containment - while the other hand pointed accusingly at the man behind the desk.
Dax didn't look up right away.
He sat in his office like the world obeyed calendars because he asked it to, posture immaculate, presence heavy, a gold-and-black pen tapping softly against the document in front of him as if the sound itself could make the situation final.
"Chris," he said, voice even. "This is not something we negotiate."
Chris stopped pacing long enough to stare at him. "Why not?"
