Eight days. Eight days in a freakin' inhospitable forest being chased by some really freakin' inhospitable (if improbably hot) women with swords. And those women very clearly knew how to use those swords. He'd barely gotten out of that first little scrap with his life. Being unarmed hadn't helped, but he wasn't sure he'd have been able to take them out even if he'd been fully kitted out. They were fast, strong, and clearly well trained. Better than him, that was for sure.

He'd been dang lucky to sneak up on one of them under a sight shield to grab a blade and some rations.

Not that there'd been much. He'd gone through them in a couple of days.

So now he had a gnawing hunger in his belly, six days of unshaved stubble, and one incredibly ragged pair of jeans. He'd given up his shirt early on since it kept getting caught on things.

He hadn't been sleeping well, either. The Cursors didn't call it "Escape and Evasion", but he had some training. And he was good enough at it to both still be running around after a week, and to know that he probably wouldn't last more than a couple more days.

After all: he's on an island. There's nowhere to run.

Max is bored. It's a general sort of feeling, really. Milliways is great. The booze is great, there's plenty of beautiful women to flirt with, but... there's something missing.

So he's standing out by the lake, just looking out over it. The smile on his face is his habitual easy grin, and the tumbler in his hand has its habitual ice and something hard. The wind in his face and the chill coming in off the lake are already making him feel better.

It's actually a nice night out.

Max is tired. Extremely tired. He keeps his steps energetic as he moves through into his tent, but as soon as the flap closes behind him he lets his shoulders sag and tosses his helmet carelessly onto his bedroll. He knows he's been pushing too hard, drawing ruthlessly on his metalcrafting to stay awake and alert, but it's been necessary.

Even needing as little sleep as he does, Tavi needs more than Max. So Max has been pushing himself. To be awake when Tavi can't be, to make sure no one suspects that Tavi's metalcrafting is more than just weak...

He needs sleep. Well, he needs to get really drunk and find some beautiful and grateful young woman, but sleep is probably as close as he'll get for a while so it'll have to do. He begins undoing the catches on his armor. At least he can get out from under all the metal for a bit.