A nod. Confirmation, of whatever R was picturing. Of the memory that had been so close ever since he'd told Max his intentions.

But then he breathed, sighed through his nose, and moved to take the seat next to the boy, reaching up to touch his shoulder, squeezing the strange, soft flesh gently.

He understood, better than most, that the right thing wasn't always the easiest.

"Thank ya, son," he said, that slow, honest drawl. "How ya found out 'bout all this wasn't the best'a ways it coulda happened, an' I'm sorry for that... but I appreciate ya tryin' in-spite of that."