Max continued eating through his spice bag, absently listening to Billy as the guy kept talking. The anecdote had him bobbing his head absently, only half listening–he didn't think Billy wanted a comment, as the conversation moved on to Max's other question. He let out a thoughtful hum as Billy admitted that things had stalled while he waited for contractors to finish the stuff he couldn't do himself. It was all a bit beyond Max, he'd never started a project that big.
With his mouth full, finishing the last of his fried food, Max didn't have any immediate questions to add to the conversation. He'd popped in the last fry when Billy stumbled, hands momentarily too full to lend a hand. Billy caught himself, so Max stopped and crumbled the wax paper up and threw it in a nearby trash barrel, freeing his hands.
“You good, Broder?” Max checked in, looking up as Billy did, and glancing around without seeing anything–or smelling anything–too worrisome. But he was picking up enough from Billy to know the guy was maybe... panicking a bit, so Max put a hand on his shoulder, leaning over to get a good look at his face. “What's going on?”
With his mouth full, finishing the last of his fried food, Max didn't have any immediate questions to add to the conversation. He'd popped in the last fry when Billy stumbled, hands momentarily too full to lend a hand. Billy caught himself, so Max stopped and crumbled the wax paper up and threw it in a nearby trash barrel, freeing his hands.
“You good, Broder?” Max checked in, looking up as Billy did, and glancing around without seeing anything–or smelling anything–too worrisome. But he was picking up enough from Billy to know the guy was maybe... panicking a bit, so Max put a hand on his shoulder, leaning over to get a good look at his face. “What's going on?”