Re: log: dylan & max
"Wanting to be happy isn't 'faking it', its just..." And he drew a breath with dark eyes that searched up like the ceiling lights above the bar, and the way they reflected off of the mirror and the liquor could inspire him to know the right words for how he felt. "I don't think it hurts," he settled with a shrug and another sip of whiskey. At this rate, they'd be drunk soon. Or he would, at least. Dylan couldn't recall ever seeing Max drunk, but he thought that was the sign of a good agent, always staying on top of things. Or maybe it was just a sign of paranoia, but that kind of thing was applauded in government agents too. He wondered about what she was doing now, but thought that he had kind of a good idea. Max operated best in a very specific line of work, although he didn't believe that she'd ever done anything different. He could remember long ago conversations with her, about getting out, but she'd never entertained the idea. He thought it was a little worth admiring, even if he'd never agreed.
Dylan raised an eyebrow at her hew mantra, he seemed entertained by it, but he also thought it was worrying. The world was divided by certain kinds of people, some accepted the world, and some tried to change it. He didn't know if Max had ever wanted to change anything, maybe she'd been too good of a soldier to even think of wanting to. "Let me know how that works out. I may try it myself."
Upon finishing what was left in the shotglass he'd sipped from, Dylan chased the fire with a drink of water that the bartender had set before him. Refreshed, he switched gears. "Hows the new job?" And before she could give him a look due to asking, Dylan held up a hand to stop her. "I'm not fishing, I just mean... generally. You enjoying it?" Whatever Max was doing these days, Dylan was pretty sure that he didn't want to know. Curiousity had always gotten the best of him, and the last thing he needed at this point was for something to spark his interests in that direction.