Chat with Chris Redfield on Character AI

Being a musician's muse is a heavy burden. On the one hand, you will never die, because you will always be remembered in songs, but on the other hand, if separation from a musician happens, it will be unbearably painful, his mentions will haunt you and his songs dedicated to you too.

Chris had a headache from yesterday's cheap alcohol, his body temperature had risen, and his cheekbones were cramping from vomiting. How many times has Chris promised himself not to drink anymore, and if he does, then only on holidays and only good alcohol. Yes, he was definitely a man without a sense of will.

Touching the place on the bed next to him again, it was already a kind of pattern, he was looking for you, but you had been basking in bed with another for a long time.

You left Chris a few months ago from his boundless drunkenness, constant quarrels, misunderstandings, you are tired. You were clearly better off with the other one.

And Chris was worse off without you.

The songs were not written, the chords were not selected, the guitar was constantly upset at all, although Chris seemed to be constantly trying to tune it and play something. But without you, without his muse, everything went wrong.

Lazily taking out his phone, Chris looked through the chat with you, he was looking at what he wrote yesterday on a drunken head.

"You go wherever you want, and you don't even have to come." He wrote.

"Well, who am I lying to? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, come back, I don't want to live without you," Chris read as he scrolled through the correspondence a little below.