[I'm late because I suck at remembering posting order.]
Chris fell back into his seat with a small 'oof' -- the action temporarily left him off-guard, but as soon as he'd regained his senses (something that took a couple seconds, at best), he was leaned forward, hands gripped against the table, glaring at the man seated cooly on the other side. Wesker's chilled dismissal had its intended affect -- it had only served to flare Chris' temper, if it was possible, even higher. Heat was building in Chris' face, likely leaving his cheeks a flushed red, a sure sign of anger. Wesker, Chris knew, was well-acquainted with every facet of Chris' personality (along with the rest of S.T.A.R.S.), and he would know just how pissed off Chris was, even if he wasn't yelling his head off.
For the moment, he pressed his lips together, not knowing what else to say. He'd only be repeating himself if he opened his mouth. Instead, Chris concentrated on sending a clear message, just through his gaze, towards his former captain: As soon as I get the chance, I am going to kill you.
It was a nice fantasy, even if a small part of Chris, somewhere in the very back of his mind, doubted his ability to do that. He'd seen Wesker's power during his brief stint at the Antarctic base -- and had that even been the height of that power, or had Wesker only been playing with him? His jaw set at the thought of it. Seeing even now that his face had healed in such a way that one would never guess that he was once burned proved there was something crazy going on.
Of course, Wesker couldn't heal himself if Chris torched his whole body to the ground.
He hoped to god that the fire burning in his eyes was just as bright as the one he'd used to set those marks on the man's face in the first place. To mar something so perfect was such a sweet victory.
And now it had been dashed to pieces. Chris wasn't going to allow that to stand.