Hallway / Open to Richard
Walking out of the elevator a little hesitantly, Max wasn't sure what had drawn him to this location and event, but here he was. In comparison to a few people he saw, he was dressed in seam-tattered jeans, a plaid shirt over a tee with a zippered jacket over the entire ensemble, scuffed sneakers on his feet. He adjusted his glasses as his brown curls fell over his forehead and surveyed the area. Hell, maybe he'd meet a hot girl.
Hey there. Wanna know what I can do? How about I show you.
No, that sounds ridiculously creepy, he remarked to himself, his face registering a slight disgust and amusement at his own mind's antics. Walking further into the space, he considered his options - door A offered alcohol, and door B seemed to contain a plethora of books, and not the kind with pictures. The volumes looked thick and wordy, potentially containing long soliloquies and intense dialogues that missed the point of entertainment over the idea of being "deep". But of course, Max chastised himself for judging a book by its cover (digging out another inward smirk at his own sense of humor) and moved back into the hallway.
Pulling his hands out of his pockets, his fingers wiggled as he wondered if it would be a better (i.e. more fun) idea to enter the party a little less noticeably. He hadn't necessarily abused his powers like this before (all the women's bathrooms he could've been creeping in!) but the opportunity hadn't yet presented himself. This party was probably going to be full of old people anyway, and who would begrudge a kid his fun? But before he could even attempt to muster some control over what he assumed to be a section of his brain that caused his cells to obfuscate themselves, the elevator doors slid open again, vomiting up another party-goer.