[ Something flashes across Max's face, but it's gone before Steve can really put a name to it. He follows her up the steps of the porch and watches her open the door. ] Again? Does that happen a lot?
[ He glances over his shoulder at the Munson's trailer, the porchlight still glowing despite the morning hour and frowns as he follows Max inside. He takes in the living room, spotting the flashlight on a low table near the door. There's a blanket on the couch, balled up into the corner and a thin film of dust on the tv where it's been undisturbed for a while. The trailer is warm in the June morning sun and is probably only going to get warmer as the day goes on. He nods towards the bathroom, moving past the kitchen where the only thing in sight is an open box of cereal, the opening at the top clear that whoever was eating out of it hadn't bothered with a bowl or milk.
The last time he'd been in Max's trailer it was after they'd gotten out of the upside down the first time and were trying to figure out their last move. It had been crowded with the rest of the gang and the bathroom had been one of the most highly sought spots. He remembers Max's mom's hairspray because it was the same kind he used, but now he sees none of the clutter that had marked her presence before. No hairspray, no make-up, no shampoo for colored hair. Even in the near darkness of the bathroom, the only light coming from a small glossed window, he can see only Max's things here. Steve opens the medicine cabinet and tries to squint at the labels. They're all Max's, all half full, all dated the day she was discharged from the hospital. He closes the mirror and frowns at his reflection in the mirror.
He moves to the door and opens it, stepping out and moving to the kitchen. He goes to the powerless fridge and opens it to find it nearly empty. He shuts it and looks up at Max, putting his hands on his hips.] Max, where's your mom?
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chiming
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Date: 2023-04-15 10:01 pm (UTC)From:[ He glances over his shoulder at the Munson's trailer, the porchlight still glowing despite the morning hour and frowns as he follows Max inside. He takes in the living room, spotting the flashlight on a low table near the door. There's a blanket on the couch, balled up into the corner and a thin film of dust on the tv where it's been undisturbed for a while. The trailer is warm in the June morning sun and is probably only going to get warmer as the day goes on. He nods towards the bathroom, moving past the kitchen where the only thing in sight is an open box of cereal, the opening at the top clear that whoever was eating out of it hadn't bothered with a bowl or milk.
The last time he'd been in Max's trailer it was after they'd gotten out of the upside down the first time and were trying to figure out their last move. It had been crowded with the rest of the gang and the bathroom had been one of the most highly sought spots. He remembers Max's mom's hairspray because it was the same kind he used, but now he sees none of the clutter that had marked her presence before. No hairspray, no make-up, no shampoo for colored hair. Even in the near darkness of the bathroom, the only light coming from a small glossed window, he can see only Max's things here. Steve opens the medicine cabinet and tries to squint at the labels. They're all Max's, all half full, all dated the day she was discharged from the hospital. He closes the mirror and frowns at his reflection in the mirror.
He moves to the door and opens it, stepping out and moving to the kitchen. He goes to the powerless fridge and opens it to find it nearly empty. He shuts it and looks up at Max, putting his hands on his hips.] Max, where's your mom?