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[zoomingupthathill]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, MADMAX. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 005.08.019.85 *** MADMAX has joined 005.08.019.85 <MADMAX> do your thing or whatever <MADMAX> don't be dumb

Main: MADMAX
Anon: houndsof

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[zoomingupthathill]

[ Trish could ask. She could try to enquire, and in her current state, the violin coaxing and coercing, she has to be honest. If she wants to make it last, to really know, she could ask—

But she continues to bury her head in the sand. It's not like Max is surprised by this.

It's only motion that gets Max's gaze to flit upwards, to catch Trish's harsh stare—something Max sees as she sees every time Trish has stared at her, looking down like she's something that doesn't deserve the consideration.

It makes her throat close.

In an instant, she shoves her headphones around her neck and scrambles out of the path she's been given. Her only moment of pause is to grab the half-cooked meat off the ground; it's on her way and she's loathe to waste it despite everything. Cooking it's just to make it more palatable anyway.

But that's all. With a clatter of hooves growing all the more distant as she scurries up the stairs, she's gone, leaving Trish alone in the empty kitchen, burner still going, tile still cracked. ]