theroadwarrior | IC Contact for etraya

[Max is a man of his word, for better or worse, paranoid or not. He doesn't trust the person behind the texts, but he doesn't trust just about anyone he's ever come into contact with in his forty years alive. The cafe is very public, though, and has always appeared to have at least a little bit of activity throughout the day.

And he has a knife on him, so if he needs to stab someone...

Anyway.

He'll wait until he's sure that the person in question is likely there as well before hobbling in, leaning heavily on a crutch, favoring his right side. That and the obviously sutured gash and goose egg on the side of his head speaks volumes to how much he is absolutely over this week and the revelations he's played a part in. He limps over to the table she's at, quirking one eyebrow.]

... 'Piltover's finest'?

[Whatever that means.]

[Caitlyn arrives right on time, dressed in a crisp uniform that's all clean, straight lines, neatly pressed and without any indications of wear to be seen. When she sees that nobody's waiting for her, she sits on her own at a table by the window and opens the notebook she's brought, flipping to an empty page and fiddling with her pencil as she contemplates everything she knows thus far about Solmara with a frown.

When her nameless acquaintance finally shows, limping towards her with several obvious wounds, she stands in a hurry.]

You're hurt. [This must be why Romano was asking for a magical healer.] Do you need a doctor?

[He waves a hand dismissively.]

M'fine.

Don't like doctors.

[He's got the knee compressed, and the cut on his head is stitched. As far as he's concerned? That means he's fully treated and has no need for any other helping hand. He's sweating a little from the exertion, and immediately dumps himself into the nearest chair. Relief.]

You're interested in scouting Solmara.

[Not a question, just an observation. A start to the conversation.

He glances out the window, eyes Furiosa where she's keeping watch from across the way, but doesn't linger his attention long enough to make it suspicious; she hadn't been too happy at the idea of him meeting with anyone just after the big reveal, especially with his leg as it is.

But it'll have to do. It's an important task.]

Yes.

[Well then. No beating around the bush.

Though she's still worried about him – whatever he says, he does look like he ought to see a doctor, and quite possibly lie down for a while – she sits back in her chair.]

You have a map?

Mm. Was made for myself only, so I'll need to, ahhh. Help you label properly.

[As he talks, he reaches into the inside of his battered leather jacket, pulling loose a piece of rough but still surprisingly put together fabric, no bigger than a dinner plate. Some of the lines are in ink, and some are questionably rust-red, with other lines threaded by hand — clearly something made by an attentive man who had very little on him at the time to work with.]

[As soon as the map is produced, Caitlyn eagerly begins copying it. She's not an artist, but she has an excellent eye for detail, and she's careful to get each line and structure as close as she can to the original. She appreciatively notices that same attention to detail in the map she's copying – as well as the suspiciously-coloured "ink," which she opts not to ask about.]

Yes, please. Any information will be of use.

[Max is not a talker.

That much is clear in the slow, careful way he speaks, how no word is poorly spent. He doesn't veer off conversation, and only very occasionally seems to lose his train of thought — looks at something to her distant left or right, though nothing will ever be there if she sneaks a glance. Not there to her, anyway.

These little spells come and go, and he never so much as apologizes or mentions them. Instead, calloused hands gesture from one spot to the next, carefully detailing Solmara: old hospital with the AI system is located within tall, guarded gates, two ways in and out, but there could be other openings he's unfamiliar with.

One major deterrent for the bridge area: the whirlpool that seems to want to consume anything near it, and the lake that is poisonous and plentiful in unkind wildlife. He taps his finger over the little radiation sign he'd drawn.]

Water's no good there. Full of predatory creatures.

Good defense for the base, bad for anyone trying to sneak around the bridge.

[Every word is duly noted, written down in Caitlyn's scrawled handwriting, labels and notes and little things that pop into her head as he speaks that might come in useful later. As she's writing, she glances up when he seems to trail off or drift, catching him looking at seemingly nothing. She looks every time, curious, and every time there's nothing there. It does make her wonder, ever so slightly, whether his information is entirely reliable or whether he might have a tendency to see or hear things that aren't there, but every single thing is written down nonetheless.]

Is the water itself dangerous? Is it poisonous, or... polluted? Anything like that? Or is it only what's in the water?

Mm. Undrinkable. Could be polluted by the creatures, could naturally ahhm... tainted. Wouldn't recommend drinking it. AI doesn't bother on any upkeep in the city, so nothing gets purified or fixed these days.

[He taps his finger on the water droplet symbols.]

Take your own water, but if you need more — these are places we collect from.

Main base has a water system, but... obviously not accessible for outsiders.

[Caitlyn nods along, scribbling down everything he says and making particular note of the water sources; she's not planning to be there terribly long, if she can figure out how to get there at all, but they'll almost certainly need more water than they can easily carry.]

Thank you. For all of this.

[She finally finishes copying the map and making notes.]

Can I come to you in the future, should I have any further questions?

[Folding the paper gingerly with hands sporting a few somewhat crooked fingers, he hums his approval. Quite frankly, he's not used to being thanked — for anything, really. Or if he is, it doesn't usually last all that long.]

Mm. Will answer the best I can.

[Which is no easy feat to be offered such things from him, Caitlyn.

He just appreciates being willing to step foot in that mess of a city.

Speaking of which, more seriously:]

Just don't get caught by her.

[Caitlyn nods, just as serious as he is.]

I won't.

[She takes note of his crooked fingers, the care with which he folds the map, the jittery way he looks around... It all speaks to someone who has suffered something traumatic, whether in his world or in Solmara, if not both.

As Caitlyn stands to leave, she reaches out in what she intends to be a kind gesture, intending to lay a hand on his shoulder.]

[Max's body tenses under her hand.

An instinctive reaction, one born from years of both enduring and using violence. In another headspace, at another point in his life, his response could've -- would've -- been a messier affair... but he just bites the inside of his cheek and sees the gesture for what it is.

He offers a slight nod.

Maybe it's a sign he's not hopeless, after all.]

IC Contact for etraya

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