Snippet #2533977

Max found himself letting out a long breath which he hadn’t realised he’d been holding whilst more writhed into their menacing forms. With both Baron and Ragenard off the premises, he was reflecting some. Snow had been speaking sense. As always. Instead of heading to the bar, where he was supposed to be working, Max motioned for Snow and sat down at the nearest empty table. Short glasses sat mostly drained of liquor on the table and he moved them out of the way with a sweep of his arm. Just another sign that he wasn’t doing his job.

If there was someone he could confide in and receive some decent, unbiased advice; he was about to have a conversation with him.

Max didn’t bother to hide the dejection written all over his face as he propped his elbows onto the polished wood and worked his fingertips against his temples.
“I spose you guessed it was a no.” he croaked then let out a chuckle at his own stupidity. “Don’t know what I was thinking. Spent years working up to that moment and now look. All those ideas, those dumb ideas about me being turned were all wrong. Sure set myself up in quite the illusion. He doesn’t give two shits.” The hysteric laughter threatened to return but he cleared his throat instead and sat back in the chair, dropping his hands into his lap and regarding Snow with sad eyes.

“So, he told me to get out, anyway. I won’t be here by the time he gets back. I fucked up.”
‘Fuck him’ another part of Max wanted to say. He didn’t. Not just because he was surrounded by werewolves who could give him a good crushing for the disrespect, but he still had immense gratefulness and reverence for the man who had saved him from his slippy descent all those years ago even if that was hard to feel right now. But over the last few months, and especially right now, Max had been left to fall. He didn’t think Baron would be throwing down the rope at all, not after that fiasco.

He grimaced.