Max glances down at the offered hands and back up at him, his own still firm on the barrier. "You sure you're ready to handle a novice? You'll bust your ass on the ice as soon as I do."

He visibly cringes and groans, hiding the amused smile twitching at his lips. "Empath my ass. If you're one, I'm a world class ice skater."

Microwave burned my ramen. No one talk to me.

"Jeez dramatic are you?" He fights back a smirk, finally grabbing one hand, "I said bust your ass, not spontaneously die." The other hand follows soon after and Max is standing there trembling like a newborn giraffe.

"Oh yeah that *really helped make me feel better. Smartass." Max gives a flick to a lock of Ace's hair before sitting up more in his chair with an obnoxious creak. "Instead of busting my ass again I'd rather just drown my sorrows in a greasy burger and burnt fries."

Man I don't have time for that!

Why? 🤨

I'm not that desperate.

Call me old fashioned but I like to think that when you're more than friends with someone, you're more than friends. That's not complicated.

WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN???

Staring at his corkboard covered in photos and clippings, a cigarette in his lips

"Usually works." He shrugs nonchalant, allowing a cloud of smoke to leave his lips before gesturing towards one particular section. "Somethin here's really nagging me. Like I'm missing a connection."

MY STOVE IS BROKEN, PETER

Max gives Ace a confusing look, hands in his jacket pockets. "What era do you think I live in? Victorian? I don't dress up for the job."

"Standard button down and tie are sufficient on the clock." His mouth slightly twists like he just bit into a lemon, "I meet the dress requirements. All they really care about is whether or not I properly contribute."

Wings?

Oh there's another one. Saving it in his library cause what else is he gonna do with them? Giving him a good idea on what to get him for his birthday or whatever.

A slow head turn towards Ace, worry *very apparent in his face. "Uh.... why...?"