the noise at her door. she stiffens, then glances. only one person comes to see her this late, and she breathes, crossing the threshold to open the door.
" . . . victoria? "
the light at max's bedroom desk has been making her eyes sting for hours. working on an assignment for jefferson, unseeing eyes scanning a particular sentence enough times that it makes her forehead pound.
a groan, she leans back, and only just closes her eyes when she hears +
An obscene amount of alcohol is consumed before her mind’s attack ceases, a silencing so desirable she considers forcing more into her system. Markedly inebriated, Victoria follows a dreaded path across the hall, and it is her forehead that unintentionally smacks against+
" no, like, not mr. keaton. there's another one. miss barbie. i think- "
she closes her eyes tightly. her head swims. god, she can't handle both of them.
" thanks for the burger. "
max makes her way to another part of the courtyard, sitting as she focuses on not throwing +
" it's short for /maxine/, but no one calls me that. and no, that's not an invitation to start. "
she does look at the burger, though. and she can feel a loud rumble in her stomach.
" sure, milf, if that's what you call it. "
logan has made his way over, and she closes her eyes, shut tight, feeling the ground underneath her shift.
" max, " she mumbles. " and i haven't yet. sounds good, actually. "
" uh- "
her slowly-deteriorating mental state makes it hard to focus, squinting at the question. the one she'd say, she already has. but she won't say that. she takes another beer, and hiccups before responding.
" the theatre teacher. blonde hair. has that kind of motherly +
" no- "
max's brain immediately shuts down. victoria is there, her presence is made known without much effort on her part. the fact max has been avoiding her seeps into her bones, and she takes another long swig of beer. finishing off the second can.
" nothing. just exactly +
taking another long drink, she closes her eyes again. it's starting to go to her head, her brain swims and she runs her fingers through her hair. grounding herself.
max has to think about nat. and, of course, victoria. and she smirks.
" sure. only looking. you're right. "
she has to shrug at his comment, looking around. the people that she sees, but can't relate to. the ones she frames, but doesn't understand.
" they're nicer to look at than jocks, " max says, a twitch of a grin at her face. " even you could agree to that. "
" yeah, right. jocks aren't my type. "
she tilts the can up again, letting the last of the drink slide down her throat. she grimaces at the bitterness, but walks over to the cooler to grab another anyway. she's gone this far, after all.
" but you already know that. "
" you really think i need to tend to that here? " she asks, glancing around at the commotion. " there's enough of that in the courtyard right now. literally half the football team is already here. "
she takes another drink. she can feel it start to stir in her chest.
drink, cracks it open, and drinks. with no sense of pacing, half the can is gone.
" some of us have work to do, " she says, a quirk of her mouth. " a photographer's job isn't done just because there's no classes. i'm sure you can relate. "
max's instinct is to scrunch her nose. the last few times she'd allowed herself to indulge in alcohol were catastrophic, at best. however, that look on his face is hard to deny.
she knows it says, ' if you don't, i'll bother you about it forever '.
so, she does. grabs the +