#maxinteracts

Ah, New York. It isn’t Max’s favourite city, not by any sincere metric, but it does have the decency to contain some of his favourite people. A few decent hotels. A few excellent bars. A few private rooms where the lighting forgives almost everything. So he can forgive New York in return, if only temporarily. Even now, he cuts through the outdoor seating with all the confidence of someone assuming that paths are meant to clear for him, as he finds one of those favourite people sitting in daylight. His cousin. Or rather, the crime against nature itself. Max slows beside Felix’s table and looks him over with open, theatrical disapproval.

“Without fail, seeing you in daylight is like seeing a dog on its hind legs. Technically impressive, but ultimately odd. You always look out of place, Felix. Like someone reanimated you and propped you up in a suit.” he drags the opposite chair back and it screams against the pavement with a horrible metallic scrape that makes someone nearby glance over their menu. Max does not apologise, he just drops into the chair with a smug little grin. “How have you been?” he asks, and then nods straight to Felix’s hand. Never mind the fact there's no ring there. “Oh, before I forget. Congratulations.” And just like that, Max then claps his hands together and rubs them, brightening at once.

The invitation to Azul Veranda had Max St. James written all over it. He didn't bother reading most of the details before making arrangements to clear his schedule, which in truth was never particularly strict to begin with. Though he had a strong suspicion he wouldn't end up staying for the full nine days regardless. The look on his father's face when Max casually mentioned he would be unavailable for the next week roughly twelve hours before boarding a plane, had been enough to guarantee that something back in New York would suddenly become very important before long.

Still, a few days away was more than enough to keep him satisfied for now. Max leans against the bar as the bartender tops up his whiskey again, watching the amber catch the warm lighting of the room while the low buzz of conversation drifts around him, and he can already feel the tension of New York loosening its grip somewhere between the first drink and the second. No lectures here. No quiet reminders about representing the family name every time he decides to have a little fun. Just a few days where he can exist without feeling like someone is taking notes on behalf of the St. James legacy. And, judging by the collection of guests he's already spotted wandering through the resort, this week will almost certainly spiral into exactly the sort of chaotic entertainment he tends to enjoy the most.

So yes, Max is feeling rather pleased with himself. There's a restless kind of anticipation sitting under his skin as he glances idly around the bar, curiosity already sharpening into mischief while he wonders what sort of trouble this place might offer before the week is over. His eyes drift to the doors when he hears them open. And then he sees her. The shift is immediate, the quiet satisfaction draining out of his expression as his mother sweeps through the bar area. Max blinks, the freshly poured whiskey pausing halfway to his lips.