[ look he was rolling around in the woods earlier today, if he and harper are going to be getting up in each other's face, he'd rather she not find stray mud in his hair or something.
after sending the text, the phone is tossed onto the bathroom counter, and max steps into the shower, spray hot enough to fog up the mirror and send a warm cloud of damp air out into the hotel room, because what is closing doors ever? it gives him time to think as well, reflect back on what's gotten him here. from the crisp north german air and smell of wheat and horses on the breeze o his mother's farmer, to the dank cell of a basement in the reed compound, to BCR's imposing halls and the bright lights of townie raves, to ashes clinging to his fingers and charcoal in the air as he passed from one fucked up little town to the next, to another cell, to Egypt and Nada and everything that was golden and didn't last, to the shadows and blood splattered corners of the demonic plane, searching for marco, and this.
recovery, it feels like. to a point. tentative recovery, with a healthy dose of waiting for the other shoe to drop. and through the last cycle of horrible, there's been harper, who he hadn't expected to ever see again after leaving school. and certainly hadn't expected to be working with, but there's something they found that resonated, and while it'd been surprising to see just how well they work together, max had realized there'd been a spot missing, until she showed up. like a false safe or a wall to lean on he'd been missing before. he hopes he's been able to provide the same.
or, at least, a warm bed to fall into when she could use the contact from someone she trusts. or, a late night text booty call, you know, whatever.
he doesn't hear the door open over the shower spray, but does hear her calling out to him, eyes blinking open under the water. ] I'll be right out.
[ hair washed, soap applied, he rinses off and cuts the water, stepping out to towel off and wrap the cloth around his hips. even if she weren't here for the whole late night half drunk booty call thing, he'd probably still come out in just a towel. nudity's never been that big of a deal to him, and harper's definitely seen him more bare than this before. on his way out, he snags a beer, and finds harper wherever she's gone to chill, shaking some of the water out of his hair. ] Good taste in beer. Did I teach you that or are you just naturally talented that way?
yaassss
after sending the text, the phone is tossed onto the bathroom counter, and max steps into the shower, spray hot enough to fog up the mirror and send a warm cloud of damp air out into the hotel room, because what is closing doors ever? it gives him time to think as well, reflect back on what's gotten him here. from the crisp north german air and smell of wheat and horses on the breeze o his mother's farmer, to the dank cell of a basement in the reed compound, to BCR's imposing halls and the bright lights of townie raves, to ashes clinging to his fingers and charcoal in the air as he passed from one fucked up little town to the next, to another cell, to Egypt and Nada and everything that was golden and didn't last, to the shadows and blood splattered corners of the demonic plane, searching for marco, and this.
recovery, it feels like. to a point. tentative recovery, with a healthy dose of waiting for the other shoe to drop. and through the last cycle of horrible, there's been harper, who he hadn't expected to ever see again after leaving school. and certainly hadn't expected to be working with, but there's something they found that resonated, and while it'd been surprising to see just how well they work together, max had realized there'd been a spot missing, until she showed up. like a false safe or a wall to lean on he'd been missing before. he hopes he's been able to provide the same.
or, at least, a warm bed to fall into when she could use the contact from someone she trusts. or, a late night text booty call, you know, whatever.
he doesn't hear the door open over the shower spray, but does hear her calling out to him, eyes blinking open under the water. ] I'll be right out.
[ hair washed, soap applied, he rinses off and cuts the water, stepping out to towel off and wrap the cloth around his hips. even if she weren't here for the whole late night half drunk booty call thing, he'd probably still come out in just a towel. nudity's never been that big of a deal to him, and harper's definitely seen him more bare than this before. on his way out, he snags a beer, and finds harper wherever she's gone to chill, shaking some of the water out of his hair. ] Good taste in beer. Did I teach you that or are you just naturally talented that way?