He took a breath, trying to slow the hard thump of his heart. Anger and hurt and a heavy sense of uselessness pulsing through him with every thick beat.

"Well, that's good of him," he acknowledged, but his face didn't soften. "But I'll still be damned if those lies of his'll be the last word said before I die."

He couldn't say for certain when this little spat had occurred, but it didn't really matter. He couldn't be there, couldn't talk to Max himself, couldn't make sure Max knew....

He'd have to use the cameras. Hope they'd show it, hope Max was watching.

(If might have been better, to let Max think the worst of him, to let anger replace loss if - when - he didn't return, but he couldn't let it be. Selfishly, he didn't want to die wondering if Max doubted him.)