When the door opened, Max casually slid away from the mailbox he was trying to pry open, crossing his arms and looking casual. Oh yeah, this was normal. Ten o'clock at night, standing by the mailboxes, hanging out. This was what he liked to do, of course! He watched the girl pass, noticing something familiar about her face but dismissing it. Pretty blonde girls all looked alike, really. There was just something about them that was always on the same level.
But then that pretty little thing didn't pass. No. She stopped, and turned, and looked at him with the sort of expression that almost made him laugh. Was she angry with him? Who was this bitch? He raised a brow, head canting to the side as she stared at him for a moment, expression shifting until it settled into a frown.
Then it hit him.
She looked different now. Healthier. She was less desperate, her skin brighter, and her eyes free of those hollow circles. Her limbs were thicker - in a good way - and she didn't look as if she were going to die at any second. But he recognized her despite all that.
His mind took him back to that night, the sensation of his foot in her gut and his fist in her hair. It took him back in the flash of a second and he couldn't help the nervous smile on his face. Oh, did she look pissed. So he had to play it casual. He had to get the hell out of there before she called the police or something, because he knew that Brian would not be able to handle prison.
"Me?" he asked with a laugh, putting a hand on his chest. "I, uh." He looked to the door. If he ran, he could probably get there first and catch a cab to a hotel. He had Brian's wallet. "I'm just. Getting the mail!" He pointed at the mail boxes, grinning. "Yep, that's just. That's all I'm doing. What about you? What are you...doing here? You look great! By the way." He laughed nervously, playing with the collar of his shirt. This was bad.