Though Max trusted that Vlad wanted to help, and would do an amazing job, he knew that the other man didn't get it. Nobody could. It was impossible for a normal person to understand what it was like to be a fabrication, especially one that was made for the sole purpose of protection. As much as Max wanted to be his own person, the thought of hurting Brian made him sick. If only there was a way for both of them to exist simultaneously. Of course, he wasn't naive enough to believe in a happy ending.
Monsters never got happy endings.
"Yeah," he said weakly. "Yeah, it might be." He was like a rabid dog realizing that it was doomed to die. Picking up the bottle of whiskey he had brought, he looked down at it before glancing over at Vlad. "I, uh...should probably let you rest," he said, gesturing to Vlad's shoulder. "With your burns and all."