Re: log: dylan & max
The outside was crisp. Air gusted, and he pulled the thin cotton of his zip up hoodie tighter around himself with one arm, while the other got cozy and warm against Max's back. It was a bit of a shock to the system, he'd gotten so comfortable in Vegas and, more recently, California during some of his initial setup with AIM. He'd forgotten the chill of fall in the Northeast, but immediately experienced it with the fondness of misplaced memory rather than any annoyance. When she shivered, he glanced down.
"If I ask you if you want my jacket, are you going to elbow me particularly hard?" Which was his way of offering without forcing it upon her. Dylan remembered Max being skeptical of his chivalry, or maybe she just found it alien. Out of place on him, or someone like him in the kind of field they'd once shared. Was it strange? Since he was carrying a loaded weapon, Dylan supposed that it probably was. This wasn't the Old West where men tipped their hats at passing ladies in the midst of a gunfight... not that he was planning on shooting anybody between here and the burger joint. Man, he hoped they had cheese fries.
Dylan's brow furrowed as a flicker of a sobering moment caught up with him and detangled the tangents of his mind. He shook his head, amused, and hustled down the sidewalk with her in the direction that she'd pointed. And, to save her the effort of telling him no or hell no about the jacket offer, Dylan ran a hand over the outside of Max's arm, up and down, fingers tight to bring in warmth until they got there or got used to the temperature change.