the only thing max values over FOOD is SLEEP, and she’s very tempted by the offer ; however, regardless of her mother’s trust of jason, max hesitates to so easily crash. she’s not much of a sleeper outside her own home. in seventeen years, she’s been to maybe ONE slumber party, which she left in the wee hours of the morning after hearing of a prank to be played upon her. it’s an old scar, but one that reminds max of an ingrained mantra: TRUST NO ONE.
on top of that, she feels the bus grime on her skin like a filmy sweat —— admittedly, she’s slept under worse conditions, but not by CHOICE. although her body begs for sleep, max silences its pleas with the repeated thought of ❛later, later—❜
❝thanks, but i get drowsy after naps,❞ she declines, hooking her gray backpack over the corner of a chair on her way to the kitchen. her tone is perhaps too icy ; she hopes he doesn’t take it personally. after all, her mother is missing. she has a bit of freedom as far as attitude goes. it’s not like it was ever good in the first place, right?
as she has to lean on a wall to keep from wobbling, though, she DOUBTS her aversion to sleep. blinking away the drowsiness, she corrects herself, ❝how about you summarize it, i sleep on it, and we reconvene tomorrow?❞ max suggests.
oh, wait— ❝after coffee,❞ she tacks on.
immediately, he’s ready to protest, a paternal instinct he’s never been quite aware of taking over, but decides stubbornness isn’t a good quality to show when making a first impression. ❛ alright, well. i’ll get the coffee maker going. ❜ he does so as he speaks, taking comfort in the familiar low hum of the machine beside him, and crosses his arms at his chest. it doesn’t take a detective to see how tired max truly is ------ he’s gone over her journey to new york in his mind about nine times, and that’s only in the last two hours. it's exhausting. not to mention all the non-verbal signs : it’s a habit he can’t shake ; he watches her every move.
she’s a long way from home, her mom’s missing, and she more than likely has no idea who to trust. her situation feels oddly familiar to him, almost like a distant memory. he stays silent for a long while, contemplating, then takes a few swift steps towards his office, and tries to gather as many notes, pictures and reports on her mother’s case as he can. while he’s there, it hits him that she may not have eaten anything at all, so he calls out --- ❛ do you --- um. do you want me to make you something to eat, too ? ❜
then he’s back into the kitchen, and he lays everything out onto the bar counter for max to see. ❛ by the way, now that you’re here--- ❜ a question has been sitting at the back of his mind for as long as he’s been in contact with her, on the phone or otherwise, and he really can’t fight his curious nature. it comes as a package deal with being frank and emotionally repressed. ❛ we should go through whatever you remember about the disappearance in detail. hopefully it'll bring something to the surface. ❜
2087
germansingergirl
gracieabrams
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
