No, he's not really okay. He hasn't been for over half a year, but he's gotten in to the habit of sharing his feelings with bottles more than with people.

He's having a lot of feelings that could stand to be shared right now, come to think of it, but it'll have to wait. There may not even be any sort of alcohol around this place anyway. Fuck, that'll be a disappointment.

That line of thought has him scowling, which he doesn't realise until he remembers to answer Moira. "--Yeah, that's not a bad idea. You kind of look like shit." How kind of you, Chris... "No offense. Here, sit down for a minute," he insists, waving a hand in the general direction of where a few stools stand. She looks pretty ragged- maybe not injured, but definitely exhausted, and he likes her enough to be concerned for her well-being. Chris also knows how valuable it is to be able to just rest for a while, without the looming threat of danger and death weighing your mind.

As awkward and awful as Chris can be, he knows her, and he knows he's not going to let anything happen to her.

That's what you think, a bitter thread of guilt supplies from some dark place in his mind, and he angrily shoves it away.

"What is all this? Are you alone?"