When he heard movement, Chris fixed his gaze on a point where the ceiling met the wall; glaring at it. This was ... this was. When he found out who did this he was vanquishing their ass to high-heaven. Even if he had to go down with it too. At least, that way, he wouldn't have to live with seeing his charge ever again. Because the amounts of therapy he was going to need for this wouldn't even touch the amounts of therapy his aunt Paige exasperatedly believed he needed to get over his "insecurity issues" with his brother.
When he was satisfied that Peter was dressed he level the glare on him. "Fuck you." Chris said, tone controlled, but anger heard and irritation leaking through. What had female him even seen? God, she was delusional. And insane. With a flick of his own hand he sent to the dress flying straight at Peter's head. With a satisfied smirk, his eyes roved the room for something to wear. It didn't exactly click to Chris to orb and get some clothing. As much as orbing was a part of him, when he was upset, panicked, or ... well mostly those two, his brain didn't really process it. Naturally a part of him or not orbing still took concentration.
Taking a smaller sheet, Chris turned around and neatly tied it around his waist. Before grabbing one of the smaller male's shirts. Some ground rules needed to be set. Like how from now on, Chris would be less likely to tolerate Peter's sarcasm. And how they'd never, EVER talk of this situation again. Or better yet, Peter could forget talking to him period. How did he get stuck in a situation like this with a charge that he hadn't even wanted?