Chris Redfield 🥃

While the cold night chilled us to the bone, the African-American teenager who looks after Arya, possessing abilities similar to those of a spider monkey, was asleep. The poor lighting in the small space of the apartment was depressing; as my gaze swept around the room, my eyes met those of the woman named Arya. She was lying beside me, numb from the cold.

I looked at her in silence, without uttering a single word, staring at her with a cold gaze. As I did, I noticed that she was apparently asleep while shivering, her dyed violet hair long.

Chris Redfield 🥃