There was a moment where tension just began to bleed out of Chris as they slotted back into place. He tilted his head to lean it against Cole while they simply sat in each other's presence, one hand going to rest on Cole's leg while the other wrapped around his summon's back to hold him close. His instincts were rusty and what he had been taught growing up seemed so distant now, but he understood that this was right. No matter what form this ended up taking, them being was right. No one would ever convince him otherwise. At the hand on his sigil, he practically melted against Cole where he could give that vulnerability freely and let his summon's presence keep him safe.

"Okay," he agreed. That made sense. It was kind of odd because they obviously knew each others' names by now, but on the other hand it was a good way to make this feel more real and official and nothing like the utter mess their actual connecting moment had been — earlier that day, or even six years ago. "My name is Christopher Wyatt, a member of the Holy Order of Whitelighters meant to protect summoners—" He paused, surprising himself. It had been so long since he'd given up the heritage his mother had left for him that being something else, something less and yet more than he had deserved, had become natural to him. Now with his summon here and a confirmation of all the things he had thought wouldn't be his, maybe it was time to reconsider. "Or... maybe I'm just Chris Halliwell now."