[As Dylan speaks, Max studies a person walking by. He doesn't seem to want to completely look away until they've fully walked away. Then his gaze flicks to Dylan, brow furrowing. Been through hell? Maybe that's so. Sometimes it feels like a purgatory, or some kind of great punishment that compounds with every poor decision he makes. Decisions that are done out of a need for survival — but still poor decisions regardless.
Thumbing at a callous on his palm, he hums.]
You want to stop giving him reasons, you should probably stop talking to strangers eating trash.
[Stranger danger, and all of that. If anything, it's a more important rule than it ever has been. He's used to kids being used as battle fodder, child brides, food — you name it, and a kid has suffered for it. Dylan at least looks old enough to fight back, so that's good; Max is a little tired of seeing children dying in his lifetime.]
no subject
Thumbing at a callous on his palm, he hums.]
You want to stop giving him reasons, you should probably stop talking to strangers eating trash.
[Stranger danger, and all of that. If anything, it's a more important rule than it ever has been. He's used to kids being used as battle fodder, child brides, food — you name it, and a kid has suffered for it. Dylan at least looks old enough to fight back, so that's good; Max is a little tired of seeing children dying in his lifetime.]