Max— I ain't heard back from you, and— and things were all messed up, um. So I've got your boy, and um— you just let me know when you're back, okay?
And unplugged your electronics to conserve energy and I tipped the milk out that was in your fridge and chucked out some veggies so they wouldn't rot and get nasty, sorry, I just— I mean if I disappeared I really wouldn't want to clean a fridge out when I got back. I hope that's okay.
Okay, anyway I've left my address on your fridge. Yeah. I— yep. 'Kay, bye.
( And theres a note on her fridge that's a more eloquent thing along the same lines, with an address and all. )
[Max wakes up feeling awful, the phrase "death warmed up" stuck in her thoughts as she drags herself out of bed and into a shower. A normal person might give themselves time to rest, to recover, but as soon as she's clean and dressed, Max checks her phone for messages and shortly after, finds the note on her fridge.
At least she's made one good choice recently, in trusting Sarissa. It might have been her only smart decision so far.]
Sarissa,
Thank you for taking Maurice and clearing out my fridge, I'm afraid this terrible business with the townspeople had me out of commission for several days.
I'd be happy to come collect Maurice at a time that suits you.
i'm going to preface this by saying i'm heaps glad you're up and about but
you DIED and you're TEXTING me that's like breaking up with someone via text or telling someone you'll flick them an email after an emotionally intense hookup that's such an inappropriate means of communication
[The response from Sarissa leaves her frustrated, somewhere between annoyed and chastised, so instead of responding she simply calls a taxi and heads over towards Sarissa's.
Moving is... difficult, her joints ache, she's lethargic, and she's fairly certain she's running a fever, but Max isn't going to let physical complications slow her down. By the time she arrives at her destination, she has to wait on the sidewalk for a few moments until she's confident that she's no longer covered in a sheen of sweat. She's done her best to shift away the signs of whatever illness this is, her skin isn't as pale as it was when she woke, the circles under her eyes are gone, but there's something in the way she holds herself that speaks to a bone deep exhaustion.
When she knocks on the door its only a light rap of her knuckles, anything else hurts too much.]
( Maurice, predictably, detects Max before Sarissa hears the quiet knock. She lumbers to the door, a sugar glider perched on her shoulder, looking pale and a bit shit. At least not recently dead, though, so that's a plus. Her hand rests gently on Maurice's collar as she opens the door, pulling it open fully at the sight of Max. )
[Max is good at presenting any kind of image she wants, it's something she's worked hard at, but standing here in the doorway, Maurice by her knees and Sarissa in front of her, she has no idea who she's supposed to be. She's just Max, and she doesn't know who that is. It leaves her feeling untethered, uncertain how to act.]
I-- alright, thank you. Just one moment.
[That moment is reserved for Maurice. Max kneels down so he can nuzzle her cheek while she hugs him tightly, not caring if Sarissa sees the display of genuine emotion.]
( She steps back into hallway, offering Max some privacy. Sure, she's a dramatic dick, but not a total dick, and even if the reason Max hadn't been available hadn't been death it's still not right to just loom over someone when they've had a rough few days and some time. When Max is ready she can follow her into the apartment.
Sarissa takes the time to head into the kitchen, and slowly exhale. Softly, to herself: ) This place is fucked.
( And then she reaches for a cookie tin and starts to plate up some crescent shaped cookies, because of course she does. )
[Max appreciates the privacy more than she can put into words. She buries her face in Maurice's fur while he wiggles happily and tries to clamber all over her in his excitement, and she doesn't care even a little bit. The only thing she has in the world that truly loves her is this dog, and she's not letting him go for a solid two minutes, before she finally manages to find the strength to get up. If she has to wipe threatening tears from her eyes, well, no one saw it, and therefore it doesn't count.
Then she heads into the apartment to find Sarissa, Maurice at her heels, one of her hands resting lightly on his head as though she's worried if she stops touching him, he'll disappear. She feels - better, more collected. Capable of acting like the human being she pretends to be.]
I want to apologize for texting you earlier, it was thoughtless of me. It's only that I hadn't be sure if I could trust my voice, this whole process has left me rather unwell.
[Max hates showing vulnerability, but she understands that it's necessary sometimes.]
( Sarissa's setting out a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits that smell of almond and vanilla. They're in the shape of crescent moons, and they're a good thing to distract herself with when Max speaks. Her hands still for a second, betray how bloody thrown she is, before she smoothly continues. )
Don't worry about it. I was being a dick.
( Because, at the end of the day, Max had died or disappeared or whatever the fuck. Still not looking at Max, she pours the tea. )
[The moment she's no longer focused on her own inner turmoil, it occurs to Max that Sarissa is unsettled in some way. While not good, Max isn't so unkind that she wants anyone to be suffering, it is a distraction. Something to do, that isn't think about herself.
Max closes the distance between them and tentatively lays a hand on Sarissa's arm. A small gesture, but one that speaks volumes.]
( She wasn't prepared for physical contact, actually, and she has to tell herself not to jerk away. Physical contact was a thing she craves most of the time. )
I had someone messin' around with my head a bit, when things were all... chaotic. Nothin' to worry about.
( Not like she died, right? Because, fuck. ) You're okay with almonds? I made kourabiedes.
( An intake of breath, like she's about to start talking.
You know how there's always those dark things in your head you don't wanna think about? Like the fear that's ready to start simmering, even if the circumstances ain't making sense for it?
Getting fear shoved in your face seems like a dumbass thing to complain about to someone who just woke up from being a corpse. )
Nah. Just tired.
( She does look to Max, finally. It isn't lost on her that she should warn her about Wanda, about Wanda leaving her feeling like she'd had a hook wriggling about in her mind and fishing out her nightmares, and in the same moment it feels like it'd be unfair to Wanda. And that's annoying because, honestly, fuck Wanda. ) Come on, you've had a rough week. You don't gotta look after me.
[Max waits, quiet, watching Sarissa seem to struggle with whether she wants to talk about this or not. She could push it, or try to twist it out of Sarissa some other way, but honestly, she doesn't have the energy for that kind of manipulation right now. Instead she just gives Sarissa's arm a light squeeze, before moving back out of her personal space.]
Not to sound too harsh on the subject, but I believe I earned what came for me. [Max's smile is soft, rueful.] And you've spent all this time caring for Maurice, I'd like to help, if I can.
( For long moments she's quiet. She's not sure she can really reconcile the idea of people deserving to die all that easily. Sure, there's probably always going to be exceptions, but death was so final, in theory. Even here she wasn't sure there was any guarantee that it wouldn't be.
And then there was dramatic quotes about it, which never seemed very consistent. )
"He that dies pays all debts," that sorta thing?
( Quiet, a faint rasp in her voice, and the way her eyebrows are a little raised might betray her incredulity. )
Sometime I'll tell you. I just need more time to get my own head about it, right now. But, uh— in the meantime hows about you have some bikkies and soothe my ego?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
voicemail .
And unplugged your electronics to conserve energy and I tipped the milk out that was in your fridge and chucked out some veggies so they wouldn't rot and get nasty, sorry, I just— I mean if I disappeared I really wouldn't want to clean a fridge out when I got back. I hope that's okay.
Okay, anyway I've left my address on your fridge. Yeah. I— yep. 'Kay, bye.
( And theres a note on her fridge that's a more eloquent thing along the same lines, with an address and all. )
text
At least she's made one good choice recently, in trusting Sarissa. It might have been her only smart decision so far.]
Sarissa,
Thank you for taking Maurice and clearing out my fridge, I'm afraid this terrible business with the townspeople had me out of commission for several days.
I'd be happy to come collect Maurice at a time that suits you.
1/?
2/3
3
but
you DIED and you're TEXTING me
that's like breaking up with someone via text
or telling someone you'll flick them an email after an emotionally intense hookup
that's such an inappropriate means of communication
.... . .-.. .-.. --- / .. .----. -- / .- .-.. .. ...- .
that by the way was the only thing less appropriate, which is morse code
anyway you can come by whenever
action
Moving is... difficult, her joints ache, she's lethargic, and she's fairly certain she's running a fever, but Max isn't going to let physical complications slow her down. By the time she arrives at her destination, she has to wait on the sidewalk for a few moments until she's confident that she's no longer covered in a sheen of sweat. She's done her best to shift away the signs of whatever illness this is, her skin isn't as pale as it was when she woke, the circles under her eyes are gone, but there's something in the way she holds herself that speaks to a bone deep exhaustion.
When she knocks on the door its only a light rap of her knuckles, anything else hurts too much.]
no subject
Hey.
( Oh, shit. ) Come in. The kettle's on.
no subject
[Max is good at presenting any kind of image she wants, it's something she's worked hard at, but standing here in the doorway, Maurice by her knees and Sarissa in front of her, she has no idea who she's supposed to be. She's just Max, and she doesn't know who that is. It leaves her feeling untethered, uncertain how to act.]
I-- alright, thank you. Just one moment.
[That moment is reserved for Maurice. Max kneels down so he can nuzzle her cheek while she hugs him tightly, not caring if Sarissa sees the display of genuine emotion.]
no subject
( She steps back into hallway, offering Max some privacy. Sure, she's a dramatic dick, but not a total dick, and even if the reason Max hadn't been available hadn't been death it's still not right to just loom over someone when they've had a rough few days and some time. When Max is ready she can follow her into the apartment.
Sarissa takes the time to head into the kitchen, and slowly exhale. Softly, to herself: ) This place is fucked.
( And then she reaches for a cookie tin and starts to plate up some crescent shaped cookies, because of course she does. )
no subject
Then she heads into the apartment to find Sarissa, Maurice at her heels, one of her hands resting lightly on his head as though she's worried if she stops touching him, he'll disappear. She feels - better, more collected. Capable of acting like the human being she pretends to be.]
I want to apologize for texting you earlier, it was thoughtless of me. It's only that I hadn't be sure if I could trust my voice, this whole process has left me rather unwell.
[Max hates showing vulnerability, but she understands that it's necessary sometimes.]
no subject
Don't worry about it. I was being a dick.
( Because, at the end of the day, Max had died or disappeared or whatever the fuck. Still not looking at Max, she pours the tea. )
You gotta do what you gotta do to get by, right?
no subject
Max closes the distance between them and tentatively lays a hand on Sarissa's arm. A small gesture, but one that speaks volumes.]
Are you alright, darling?
no subject
I had someone messin' around with my head a bit, when things were all... chaotic. Nothin' to worry about.
( Not like she died, right? Because, fuck. ) You're okay with almonds? I made kourabiedes.
no subject
Did someone hurt you?
[The concern is obvious in her voice, but there's something else too. The unspoken suggestion that there could be hell to pay if someone did.]
no subject
You know how there's always those dark things in your head you don't wanna think about? Like the fear that's ready to start simmering, even if the circumstances ain't making sense for it?
Getting fear shoved in your face seems like a dumbass thing to complain about to someone who just woke up from being a corpse. )
Nah. Just tired.
( She does look to Max, finally. It isn't lost on her that she should warn her about Wanda, about Wanda leaving her feeling like she'd had a hook wriggling about in her mind and fishing out her nightmares, and in the same moment it feels like it'd be unfair to Wanda. And that's annoying because, honestly, fuck Wanda. ) Come on, you've had a rough week. You don't gotta look after me.
no subject
Not to sound too harsh on the subject, but I believe I earned what came for me. [Max's smile is soft, rueful.] And you've spent all this time caring for Maurice, I'd like to help, if I can.
no subject
And then there was dramatic quotes about it, which never seemed very consistent. )
"He that dies pays all debts," that sorta thing?
( Quiet, a faint rasp in her voice, and the way her eyebrows are a little raised might betray her incredulity. )
Sometime I'll tell you. I just need more time to get my own head about it, right now. But, uh— in the meantime hows about you have some bikkies and soothe my ego?