aftermath
She was used to this- used to the rigorous nature of her jobs, but nothing could have prepared her for the absolute *hell* she’d just been through. It was hard to pin, hard to put a name to, but it was the kind of frustrating that made her want to tear all her hair out. Flinging herself down on that uncomfortable office chair she was used to, she lets out a loud exhale (one that, even she felt, *barely* let out all the frustration she’d been feeling). Running a hand through her hair, her fingers curl around one of her horns, and she squeezes. What a mess.
The door opens. Max’s eyes trail the figure that walks lethargically into the room, scowls at the glowing, red systems in the dark, but something else seems to motivate her spite. It didn’t help, certainly, that the prior mission the two had went on was absolutely *exhausting*, but it brought out an odd feeling in Max. The man was her rival- though a playful thing by nature, her feelings, she found, were much more deep-rooted than just *rivals*.
Reed’s tail swipes contemplatively behind him, and she notices the way he rubs the sweat away from his forehead. The two *had* really been through a lot, it wasn’t too hard to tell. Though, given the nature of his *hating* stress, he seemed to be taking it worse than she had. It almost made her sympathize with him, though her own anger overlooked that.
He lets out a sigh, and despite his clear stress, takes great care in not ruining his hair. It was one of those ridiculous things about him- how hellbent he was taking care of his good looks. Never mind, it seemed, the high tension mission they’d both participated in. Taking a seat, he rubs his beard, “So..” Despite the situation, he lets out a hearty laugh, but even *that* seemed stressed. “That was something, huh?”
Max, realizing how much she’d been watching Reed, looks away momentarily. Incredulously, she scoffs, “No shit.” She seemed too tired to be *that* mad, it seemed. He laughs, again. He was always doing that suave laugh. “Snappy.” Fanning himself with his hand, he reaches behind his desk, pulling a water bottle from the fridge. Knowing him, whatever was in it was likely alcohol. He takes a long drink from it, before pausing, “But we made it, at least.”
She mutters, her tone still quiet, “I guess. Doesn’t make it any less *awful,* though.” She kicks her foot into the couch. Reed shrugs his shoulders, “You were never one to look at the positives.”
Picking at her finger, she glares up at him, brows furrowed, “It’s hard to look at the *positives* when your day’s been full of fucking horseshit, *Reed*.” She emphasizes the man’s name, like spitting poison, until she turns away. She was always the easy-to-anger type- it defined her.
Reed pauses, “Hey, we’re all stressed here.” His face twists into one of an excruciated smile. Still, he comes to a stand, trailing over to the couch Max was sprawled out on and sitting in the limited space there was left. She curls up tighter. He, hesitantly, wraps an arm around her shoulder. “It can’t get worse, right?” Despite the seemingly.. pseudo-inspirational words, he seemed incredibly stressed. Max could pick up on that. She mumbles, “Whatever.”
Finally, though, she peeks her head from her arms, though does best to not make eye contact. Though she wasn’t entirely enraged, that irritable, blood-curling stress she found herself in frequently dictated her mood. “Let’s just go.” It was something- small improvement *were* steps towards the right direction.
Reed takes it as a victory. Another laugh as playfully, he punches her shoulder, coming to a stand. She folds her arms- there was something obnoxious about his suave attitude, but right now, that kindness alleviated her anxieties. Reed, looking down, smiles, “Dinner’s on me, then.”