chill to the max

MAX VANDERBILT as the D E F E C T I V E  D E T E C T I V E 

           “the greatest challenges a detective faces aren't always a devious criminal or a really tough case — all those are a cakewalk compared to managing their personal life.”

             +        hard-working, honorable, courageous

             -        macho, superstitious, flaky

♫ playlist

“the chain” - fleetwood max

“smooth criminal” - michael jackson

Blue ribbon keeping half her hair out of her face, the other half flying around in wild blonde strands, Neve was busy being spun around by a boy calling himself Jack, one of the dance majors that attended Yates. They had been in a production of Mamma Mia together last spring, and Neve had insisted they repeat the dance to Voulez Vouz, despite not remembering half the steps, Jack swinging her around like a limp rag doll. “Uncle, uncle!” She protested, laughing as she stumbled out of his grasp like she was getting off a carnival ride, nearly crashing into the drinks table, Kincaid part goers swarming around it like flies. Her hand grasped onto a shoulder for stability, pink nails digging in. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to football tackle you. Did I draw blood?” She asked, taking her hand off their shoulder, flashing an apologetic smile. “Hey, want to go look at the stars? There are like, no clouds out tonight. It’s fucking amazing. Perfect weather for reciting poetry.” @yatesstarters​

It was a night like any other. Kincaid party was in full swing, and Max was on bar duty tonight. And as usual, his shirt had somehow come off halfway into the night, an array of mixed drinking soaking his usual plain white tee. At least, that’s what he’d tell everyone else anyways. To say he was tipsy would be an understatement, being full out drunk was a line he’d been teetering on for the last 30 minutes. What’s that saying? Don’t get high on your own supply? He supposed the same sentiment applied to alcohol as well, not that he was all that great at taking people’s advice. Letting another Kincaid take over, Max stepped away from the drinks table for the first time tonight, only to be bumped into, followed by the feeling of nails against his skin. His brow peaked up, glancing down at his shoulder before meeting the face of Neve, a laugh escaping his lips as he shook his head, “Nah. I’m pretty sturdy, takes a little more than a scratch to get me.” Though he was sure it would leave a mark, joining the mess of scratches that were usually on his back, courtesy of whoever he’d had in bed the night before. “I don’t really know any poetry, but stars are fuckin’ dope, so count me in.”

“do you ever just…meet someone and you just immediately know that you want to spend the rest of your life without them?”

@yatesstarters​

“No... I mean, maybe if they’re super mean? I probably wouldn’t want to spend my life with someone that’s like, not a good person.” Max guessed that everyone was entitled to their bad days, but sometimes you could get just the cold vibes off of someone that put you off of them immediately. “What about you? What’s your dealbreaker?”