[Mm, always watching. Like calls to like. Max has been aware of some nagging sensation of eyes drifting, watching. Inspecting goods, is usually what it means. What goods there are depends on the person doing the looking: weapons, clothes, body parts, food. Always something worth taking off a man still on his own two feet. Buzzards are the least wasteful. Never want to end up in their domain, if you like to keep your skin on.
Max's stare shifts to fall on Carver, when the man speaks to him. Infinitely suspicious, hand lingering toward a gun in a holster. Max is at the very least a man who can be read easily. He is not a viper in the grass, doesn't have charisma and a smooth smile that brings people in. He doesn't seek to harm by acting a part. He simply is. Maybe, once again, like calls to like. Carver has a similar energy: the mutual understanding that killing in the name of survival is what sustains life, in most corners.]
no subject
Max's stare shifts to fall on Carver, when the man speaks to him. Infinitely suspicious, hand lingering toward a gun in a holster. Max is at the very least a man who can be read easily. He is not a viper in the grass, doesn't have charisma and a smooth smile that brings people in. He doesn't seek to harm by acting a part. He simply is. Maybe, once again, like calls to like. Carver has a similar energy: the mutual understanding that killing in the name of survival is what sustains life, in most corners.]
What's it matter?