Blue eyes meet green and for a moment Hawke isn't sure he should believe this. He should insist, at least walk him home with Amelia and see him safely back inside. But he searches in that gaze and sees no lie. Chris is still capable; he's not in prison any longer, he's armed and skilled and not completely covered in blood from having committed what was assuredly no crime but illegal all the same.

What's not addressed is left to lie, Hawke too tired to notice or too wound up and weary to follow through. He doesn't kiss him again either, though he sorely wants to. It would be easier, a wordless communication of everything he wants to get across, but that wouldn't be warranted either. Instead he lets out a helpless breath and squeezes Chris' shoulder, his thumb lightly brushing the side of his friend's neck. "Alright. You win. Just send me - send us a message when you're up in the morning, alright? I know you probably have a hundred other people who want to know the state of you but... indulge me."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Hawke finally manages to pull together somewhat. He's not helping, otherwise. He moves his hand from Chris' shoulder and places it over Amelia's on his forearm, knowing the decision he's made is probably not exactly as she would have done. She'll want to see him all the way there, whatever he says, but it's true it's not far and if he gets caught with them looking like this he'll be in more trouble than otherwise.