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“well gee, syb, that sounds really nice! but i think i’ll pass on the massage. if you got those hands anywhere near these hams, i might try to bite ‘em off, yok yok! though i can’t argue with a grooming offer, even if for just my head. i’ve gone so long without a trim that a wayward 7th grader thought i was sasquatch.”
“and when was that?”
”on the way here!”
the three of them laughed. max was glad to see her again, even though he felt.. weirder around her than the last time. he couldn’t place it. his legs felt weak and his stomach sunk low, low in his chest.
it didn’t feel good.
maybe it was just muscle tension.
“hey, if you’re offering…,” began max, with a smug, cutesy tone that he always adopted whenever he wanted to discuss biohazardous runoff in war zones with varying levels of elevation (above sea level.)
“….could you repeatedly and brutally slap my back and nearly shred the muscles of my tender little ears with your bare knuckles, oh please, mrs. lincoln-pandemik, oh please-?”
sybil shuddered with a squinting glare, looking all too much like she’d just eaten the pasta-reminiscent tentacle of a chilled, raw squid. whole.
“ew, don’t call me that.”
an awkward silence wafted around them like a silent fart that belonged to an unknown perpetrator.
“…so it’s your back and your ears?”
”god, yes, and my shoulders. i feel like a desk jockey.”
‘desk jockey,’ the hell is he talking about?
“little buddy, if you don’t tack on your wrists and the meat of your thumb-“
‘meat of your thumb,’ the hell is he talking about?
“-i’ll have to inform her of the time you rapid-fired at a crook and got so fatigued, the recoil made you drop your luger-“
”saaaam, that’s embarassing!”
“little buddy, that was on the way here.”
sybil knelt down and took max’s right paw in both of her hands. she held it just a little firmly, observing how it trembled. it wasn’t like him to get overworked. usually his affinity for embodying sloth balanced out all the work and, well, general hijinks the lagomorph devoted himself to.
she used a knuckle to gently trace along max’s wrist, moving upwards to the ‘meat of his thumb.’ oh, she hates that turn of phrase, and she hates even more that it’s stuck in her head now. sybil makes a note to herself to give sam a vaguely bad haircut that, while passable in public, would make him look somewhat douchey. gently, she rubbed circles into that part of his paw.
and wouldn’t you know it, sam was right. max’s antennae-like ears drooped a little, and his eyes became half-lidded. he looked…subdued.
which meant that max was very, very much in need of help.
sybil felt a twinge of guilt embed itself in her stomach, dragging it deep into her chest. he’d needed help then, too. she wished she could have done more for him, but she also doesn’t know what that could have been. even now, she didn’t know the solution, and part of her had always believed there was never one to begin with.
that made her feel guilty, too. so she did what she did best, and offered up a new solution. learned that in a creative writing course.
“i’ll help, max. as a licensed veterinary massage therapist, i’ve got some ideas of how i can loosen you up a little.”
”jeez, take me out to dinner first!”
sam and sybil smacked the lagomorph on both sides of his head, not unlike a high-five that max got in the way of at the last second.
a few days passed, and the three of them spent it getting some logistics and scheduling out of the way. abe, as usual, was busy, so sam agreed to watch mary while she pummeled the lactic acid out of max’s musculature. after confirming that her friend would not attempt to graffiti her daughter or hurl her in central park like a shotput, she started preparing her office for the other.
she liked the new place. just as busy and run-down as the straight and narrow, but a little more suburban and 0.565% less gunshots per hour. her previous time spent as an audio engineer also served her well. all in all, she did a pretty good job picking out a joint that was nice and quiet, comparatively.
max is gonna hate it.
so she improvises. adapts. overcomes! and finds a compilation of old noir detective radio dramas, cranks that sucker up, finds another compilation of nothing but gunshots periodically ringing out, and cranks that sucker up at the same time.
she also grabs a few old fireworks from her pyrotechnic days, firing them off in her (currently unused) safe. then, she puts the smoldering garbage in the sink and sets a fan near it, its gentle breeze allowing the gunpowder to waft in the air.
lastly, she finds some milk, red bull, and tabasco sauce, throws it all into a pot, and lets it boil over. and boy, it smells disgusting. she then dims the lights, cracks open a red bull for herself, and waits. she used to think the stuff tasted like lighter fluid, but several trimesters’ worth of no caffeine gave her…. a new perspective, let’s just say.
max is gonna love it.
sybil hears a gentle taptaptapBANGBANGBANG ring out from the front hall, and as she got up, she found herself unsurprised.
“sybil, it’s too friggin’ quiet around here, how d’ya stand it?”
“red bull.”
“and before you gave birth?”
“prenatal mma classes. this way!”
she led him down the hall leading into her office, max looking around at all the photos of mary adorning the wall. sybil just smiled to herself, feeling pleased at her quick work. sybil’s kid is here, and she loves her very much, and she’s so excited to annoy the living hell out of everyone she loves by telling them about it.
“mma circuits for those with fetus? they have those?”
“you’re surprised now, but sit in on a maternity class one of these days, and i promise that within 5 minutes, you’ll get it. and it’s with child, you little weirdo.”
she opened the door for max, watching him take a deep breath, visibly relaxed by the atmosphere she’d created. heh, score.
“oh, so that’s why pregnant folks are so obsessed with stress balls?”
“kind of. oh, here, hop up with this, and-yep, put your face in there, you got it-and gimme a sec, i’m about to use you as a stress ball-yes, rest your legs on that bump, okay, yeah, there ya go.”
“that why you offered to do all this? need a fuzzy lil’ stress ball? heh, yknow, if you’re stressed, maybe cutting out the red bull was a goo-“
sybil took both hands to max’s shoulders, exerting a gentle pressure. shut him up pretty quick.
“nah. i just like you. you’re my friend, and you look really stressed out, and i have several licenses that give me the legal ability to calm down cute, stressed-out, tiny little bunnies such as yourself. so here we are. and i have reason to believe that if i keep pushing on your shoulders like so-”
as she did, she saw max’s ears grow a little less tense.
“-you won’t bite me for calling you that. now, are you gonna let your friend dote on you or what? if you really wanna change your mind, that’s okay.”
he laid still, just for a second. she really caught him off guard. hah! she wanted to smirk at his embarassment, but at the end of the day, she just wanted him to relax. max was keyed-up at all times, sure, but only in affect. that is, until now. she didn’t like the way his paws trembled at rest. it wasn’t like him.
“…no, you can keep going. ‘s okay.”
oh thank god. the mess she made of her office is still justified.
“but, uh, just don’t touch anywhere between my knees and my cute little cotton tail. i don’t like that. in fact, i hate it so much that in 2004, i developed a reflex out of thin air where i would violently deliver a horse-like kick to anyone or anything that i felt there. hasn’t gone away since!”
“ah, okay, i’ll remember that. hey, wait, i think i saw that on the news! were you that guy who bruised the feet of, like, twenty people in times square for walking near you? was that you?”
“sybil, i thought you abandoned your days of tabloid journalism.”
“yeah, whatever. hey, pick a scent-strawberry omelette or jalapano peppermint.”
“ooh, the last one! the name alone sounds like it’s gonna give me ibs!”
“not on my watch.”
sybil took the jalapeno peppermint lotion-where did she even get these?-and rubbed a little bit of it into his shoulders. she can already hear him fake yap to her about mussing his perfect shiny coat, so before he got the chance, she took a moment to work at a few of the knots she’d already felt.
these had to hurt. she knew that this was a different max-she’d offered this little bootleg spa package as soon as she learned about how he even got here. but the more she felt at his weird, bony little shoulders, the more she knew that she didn’t have the full story.
this kind of set-in tension just couldn’t be explained with a simple “oh, my sam died, so i time-traveled here and found a new one that matched!”
and it wasn’t sybil’s business, she wasn’t gonna ask. she couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. max is quite an indestructible little guy, sure, but he’s not that tough. no one is.
regardless of how things really were for him, sybil can’t help but pat herself on the back for her ever-unfailing intuition, as max had fallen quiet. she could feel him take deep breaths underneath her hands, soothed by what she was doing. no matter the cause, his silence gave him away.
she moved up to his neck, and didn’t miss the way he slightly leaned into the touch. if she didn’t know any better, she’d call it cute. but since she did know better, she decided sweet was a better word. strawberry cake could be just as sweet as candied crickets. ‘sweet’ was versatile; it could mean many things.
she used broad, sweeping motions, slowly running her fingers from the top of his neck to just above his tail. it seemed that her friend preferred to relax a little bit at a time, as opposed to all at once. she felt his heart rate go down, just slightly. his limbs lost more and more tension, seeming to sink into the duvet. she can’t really tell, but she thinks she can almost hear what sounds like a running generator, or the rolling of dice.
for the sake of max’s dignity, sybil found herself forgetting what animals were capable of purring. so whatever the hell she was hearing, well… she thought it was sweet.
back when she was training for her work as a veterinary masseuse, she learned that rabbits were generally supposed to have kind of a doughy consistency. max felt like that, but if you stuck the dough in the freezer overnight. as such, sybil guessed she had to knead the little guy out. stick him in a taffy stretcher, so to speak.
wait, she thinks she actually did see him in a taffy stretcher one time.
if it were just her in the room, sybil wouldn’t have considered herself relaxed at all. but the god-awful smell of gunpowder, the crunchy static overlaying a detective’s monologue, the burnt tabasco… this was what max knew. she knew it was familiar to him, that it brought him a sense of home.
given the intensity at which max would operate at any moment, seeing him relaxed at all made it hard for her not to feel somewhat peaceful herself.
yet, a sense of guilt still managed to make itself known, and sybil wasn’t about to violently suppress it to the point of needing expensive, expensive therapy. she would know; how do you think she could afford a new office to begin with?
she took max’s left paw in both of her hands, running her thumbs along his wrist and kneading them into his palm. she felt herself sigh. she’d have to get it over with eventually.
“max?”
“..mm?”
“i need to tell you something, and, well, i’m not proud of it.”
“…well, i knew you couldn’t hide your crush on me and/or your brewing disdain for abe forever, try as you might. but if you want me to be ‘the other man,’ you’ll have to go through sam, and uh, good luc-“
she lightly pinched the middle of his palm.
”no, it’s just that.. i owe you an apology, max.” she rubbed at the top of his hand, pushing between his knuckles. max kept silent, waiting for her to continue.
sybil had never been afraid to say what was on her mind. she’s considered herself to be sort of blunt, in a kind way. or at least a nice way.
but for this, she found it harder to be frank.
“see, when i went into labor, we’d been inside the max that came before you. we’d tried to save him, but when it came down to the wire, my water conveniently broke.”
absentmindedly, she ran her thumbs along his wrist again.
“sam got desperate, and everybody else got stressed, and…..i said that i didn’t want to give birth in this monster.”
sybil just held his paw and kept quiet for a moment. max hadn’t said anything, either. the room was still very, very noisy, but nothing alive was currently responsible for the sound.
“in the moment, i forgot why i was even there, that you weren’t just some monster, you were my friend.”
max turned his head to meet her eyes.
“and then, not a few seconds later, you reminded me by deciding to save me. all these max spores, chanting save sybil, save sybil, i-“
she held his paw a little tighter.
“i don’t regret wanting to leave. it wouldn’t have been safe for me, mary, sam, you, anyone involved. but.. it didn’t have to go like that. i could have done something different, could’ve gotten out of my own head a little more, i dunno.”
he didn’t take his eyes away from her. he looked a little haunted himself.
“i’m sorry, max.”
“…shit, i’m sorry too.”
“for what?”
it was max’s turn to let out a deep sigh.
“…i hate this kinda stuff, y’know.”
“and you think i don’t?”
“well, you are a therapist, sybil.”
“ex-therapist.”
“fair enough.”
max pulled himself up with one elbow, shifting on his side to get a better look at her. “-jeez, you did a number on my back, haven’t been able to move that easily in years.”
she giggled, barely audible. “old man.”
“can it, my expired driver’s license still says i’m thirty-something. but, uh. when sam got royally merked, you let me stay at yours. you were really patient with me for some reason, and you let me watch mary. i woulda called you out on using me for free babysitting had she not been so fun to hang out with. she’s a good kid, y’know. helped take my mind off things, and i think she liked me. look at the top of my left ear, see that bruise?”
she hadn’t noticed it until now, but yeesh, it looked bad.
“yeah, i think she got a little hungry and confused me for a bottle of milk.”
“oh, jeez. now you know why i chose to bottle-feed.”
“no kidding. but yeah, eventually i’d, i dunno. wanted to fix things, and started working on the elevator. you let me bring it into the garage, and from then i didn’t stop.”
max’s gaze flickered away, either looking at something in the distance or at nothing at all. sybil had a pretty good guess.
“and i really didn’t stop. i was like cheap string and multicolored sequins at the met gala, i was all over the place. i think if it hadn’t been for you, i would’ve died of exhaustion before even getting here, heh.”
max gave a bitter chuckle at that. the smile didn’t reach his eyes, nor did it reach sybil’s face.
“you helped me, and made sure i ate and slept, and yknow, i’d try to make it work, and it’d blow up in my face, and i’d get frustrated and cry all over you, and you never said a word about it, sybil. even with the snot all over your shoulders, you’d just take a washcloth to my face and wipe the ash off.”
max pointedly averted his gaze now. “and then i decided to be an idiot. and not in the cool, rush-into-danger way.”
he furrowed his brow. bitter shame didn’t look quite right on him, either.
“more like the get-frustrated-after-like-the-millionth-failed-attempt-and-scream-at-one-of-the-few-living-people-i-still-cared-about kind of way.”
he took a deep breath, swallowing thickly.
“you were just tryin’ to calm me down, but i was just-i dunno. i don’t remember, i just know i was losing my shit. the baby started crying, and that’s when i first thought ’hey, maybe you’re acting like an ass,’ and you didn’t know what to do, so you left to check on her, and i didn’t know what to do either, so i just rushed in there, tightened a few screws, tried it again, and-“
slowly, he met her gaze. he looked a little desperate, a little distressed. but overall, he just looked sad.
“-and, well, it worked.”
max folded his arms and rested his head in the crook of his elbow.
“i felt like shit about it, cause i wasn’t actually, y’know, expecting anything, but i was also, i was really really desperate, so i just…. left. i’m sorry i was too much of an idiot to go back and say sorry. i wish i hadn’t done all that in the first place. my overly-dramatic emotional outbursts work best when they’re funny, you know.”
he trailed off, unsure what to say.
“max, is that why you’ve been looking at me weird ever since you showed up? i thought it was the new tracksuit.”
“…yeah, though i still never thought of you as a juicy couture person. and i figure you offered me this deluxe spa massage on the house for the same reason. especially when i know you know how bad my ears smell, and when you know how expensive this kinda thing goes for.”
“yeah, that’s about it. but hey, i never said it was on the house.”
max flashed a smug, yet relaxed, grin. “it’s on the house.”
“yeah.” she leant down from where she was standing to hug him. admittedly, though, it was from an uncomfortable angle, given that he was still laying on the table.
regardless, she still held him tight, and he still nuzzled into the crook of her neck. “i’m glad you’re home, max. and if the other me is anything like my, erm, me, i’m sure she’s forgiven you just as much as i have.”
“mm. …..sybil, this is the most awkward hug i’ve ever taken part in, and i get held by the neck and swung around on a daily basis. i’ve forgiven you about, like, 99%, but i’ll give you that last 1% if you let go of me. and hell, maybe i’ll spare another 5% if you smush your hands on my head really really hard.”
sybil took the tips of her fingers, pressing gentle circles into where she thinks max’s pressure points are. she has a mostly decent idea, but the size and shape of his head weren’t exactly…..typical of most lagomorphs.
however, from the way he relaxed into the touch, it didn’t seem like he was about to lodge any complaints.
“so you’ve forgiven me over a hundred percent? how’s that work, max?”
“mmm, oh, i d’no. maybe it’s something like-oh get right there get right there-i’ve already forgiven you, but now i love you eeeevennnnn moreeeeeeee. s’mthing like that…m’hm.”
“ah, i see. illuminating.”
sybil would never have expected max to respond to a massage so well, but given how he normally functions, much less the current circumstances, she supposed it made sense. she’d never seen her friend so docile before. she thinks she’d feel unnerved by it if it weren’t so endearing.
she continued her work, figuring she could’ve stopped some time ago, but thought his purring was too uncharacteristically soft to not internalize as blackmailing material.
she took a comb and raked it through his fur, observing how, yes, he did feel all soft and doughy now. gently, she rolled him over on his back to work at his jaw a little.
unfortunate circumstances or not, sybil knew those muscles had to be sore. guy’s got the bite strength of a damn gator.
and before she knew it, he’d actually fallen asleep.
that is, not before resting his big ol’ head on top of her hand. if she moves it, he’ll definitely wake up.
she reaches with her foot, using it to grab a nearby rolling stool. she sits down, resting her head on her unoccupied arm. she’s never seen a groggy max before, and she’s not about to now. and she could use a little power nap anyway.
about an hour passes. sam, having unlawfully entered, quietly steps in, and chuckles under his breath at the sight. he turns to the stone infant nestled in his arms.
“would ya look at that. check it out, kiddo, it’s your mom and your uncle! goduncle! godfather! yeah, you’re right, we’ll fix it in post.”
sensing the perfect opportunity for blackmailing material, sam quietly reached into his inventory, pulled out a disposable camera, and pressed the shutter.