Max poured the drinks, brow remained raised at the reason given. He didn't drink from his glass. He just picked it up and looked as if he were about to have a sip; instead, he was going to talk, use the glass as a prop. He hadn't done anything to the alcohol, but it was a trick he'd learned from his uncle. Offer the drink, soothe and loosen all at once, and get more answers. It was a risky venture, but it was one to try all the same.
"Yeah, before." Max didn't hide the bitterness. Frank's death left too many questions, and the p.i. didn't like all of them. Some of them could have been answered easily if Frank had trusted his new partner a little more. Not that Max could blame the guy for being suspicious. Whatever Frank was looking into was pretty dark, or so Max's gut suggested.
"You can look through them, but I haven't found anything different or new. Though I'd get lucky with something out at that farm, but they're ruling it animal. Even if it's not animal, it's not some sadistic asshole." He watched the vigilante for a little while longer before pulling out the files Johnny had come seeking.
"How'd you find out the girl was missing, Outlaw?" The name had become the man's on the other side of the desk, but that didn't make it any less odd to say. "The one that's ours?"