Re: log: dylan & max
Dylan fished some cash out of his pocket, a higher tip percentage that resulted from a desire to avoid math. And if he'd suspected that Max was indulging fatalism, that was largely due to treading those waters himself. The hotel might have brought Dylan back here with a safe job and a cozy place on both coasts, but he'd already experienced firsthand how easily the hotel took things away too. Shit, life took those things away too after long enough or after bad enough luck. Dylan wanted to live, not live off borrowed time... but it was difficult not to obsess over the very possible reality that this might all be gone again tomorrow. It was messed up, and he was over it, but he wasn't just going to give up, lie down and wait for death or a door to spill him into some new hell. That wasn't any way to live, and Dylan wanted to get as much living in as he could while he could. So... yeah, fatalist, but aiming for optimistic.
He wrapped his arm around her when she stood, and he nudged her toward the door when she asked where. Her voice was thick with slur, and it was the way she asked it that made Dylan realize she must have gotten the wrong idea. Well, it was a good idea yeah, but not the immediate one. He looked at her, eyes dark and heavy lidded in a note of almost-drunk. Legally, he was drunk, but he was standing and he had balance and he had that smile, so Dylan thought he was good. "I thought we could grab something to eat? Let me buy you a cheeseburger, Max." He thought about promising her that this wasn't suddenly devolving into a date, but hell it probably always had been one in a way, so he didn't bother.