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How's My Driving?

You know what to do.

Canon:	Banana Fish
	Manga (1980s) or Anime (late 2010s) - Tell me your preference or I'll pick whatever flows more easily with your character. I like the manga more but assume modern day/technologically literate will flow more naturally for most memes.
Age:	Early to Mid 30s
Warnings:	Series deals with rape, pedophilia, and sex trafficking. Character himself isn't involved in any of these besides as a reporter and has enough tact to avoid bringing them up unprompted. Prone to military flashbacks with violent lashing out (happens all of once, so probably won't come up in a thread randomly).
Shipping:	Messy divorce with ex-wife. Is a well meaning but shitty, mostly deadbeat father. Slated to remarry post-series but don't expect it to be less of a shitshow. (It's at least half his fault.) Going to assume gen with any castmates (aside from Jessica) unless you tell me you're in for ships. I'll try anything once.
General:	Gonzo and Regular Journalist; published a book and newspaper columns. Former soldier (Vietnam/Iraq depending on the continuity). Former cop. Former pornographer's assistant. Former inmate. Pretend Bank CEO. Pretend Doctor. Basically assume he's had or will have plenty of odd jobs and has or needs connections for almost any thread. Can be Team Dad, Voice of Reason, or Living Idiot Ball as needed.

[It's not a bad thing that Ash is out of the house more recently, even without mentioning where he's going, much less bringing Max out with him. As well as it seemed to go, somehow, Ash wasn't dragging him out to bars anymore. Granted the time of year made it obvious, and as for Max, he had things to go, places to do, too. Or more precisely, he wanted to have those things; but even once he'd settled on home-made again (setting aside the odd feeling he was a single-digit aged child riding on being cutely incompetent as an excuse not to have a proper, adult gift prepared) he was struck by not having any idea what to make, nor at which home. They also wouldn't be at either of those houses on the day in question.

Socializing him with the latest media was not only now pointless but also already done; he'd caught up well enough, as expected of, well, Ash. And he would be moving directly into higher academia, forgoing the socialization aspect.

He had no expensive hobbies, not that money was an object for either of them.

But mentally outlining the nature of his pathetic incapacity to find or make anything very special didn't solve it.]

[It's weird, to end up at a home that's not home. He's spent more time there than anywhere else this year, but that says more about his transience than anything. If told five years ago he would live such a lifestyle, he'd have believed that, but not the part about most of those multiple places being not just six but seven, eight figure abodes.

And yet it's Jessica's home (still probably the nicest one he'd lived in as an adult, before Ash swept in) they're doing Thanksgiving in. Maybe it's a fear of being upstaged on her part if it's in such a house; such a naive thought is, while unvoiced, just more proof of Ash's suspicions, that Max's mind is on something, something Ash had likely been trying to put his mind on for months. Because with even half of his braincells to put to it, he'd suspect the worst sooner.

It's not until they're pulling up to the house and there are two other cars there that he remembers the hell of Thanksgiving is not only family, but family you don't normally have to see. And thanks to Michael, Jessica's family is still his family.

And their ride is a taxi. It's not like they can turn around. Though Michael coming out to greet them right away in a hurried excitement would've made it impossible in anything.]

...Maybe she decided to start investing in cars. But not especially good ones. To be more undercover. As a journalist.

Day 375, Friday, December 14th

[A lot of things were awfully hot for a New York winter, for reasons having nothing to do with Global Warming. A hot political climate, a hot topic about a sexy figure in a court story ripe for fetishistic reframes, and even a hot viral video for the a-political who just wanted to rag on Boomers and their love of bitching.

November's election season keeps a political current events journalist pretty busy. It's all the more busy when politicians whose enemies are sniffing for dirt are willing to get into a cat fight for information, leaving him to try to see if he gets heads or tails of the dead animal they're fighting over. But before the metaphor becomes any more gory, unpleasant, we are past Halloween now you know, it can be summed up thusly: while wading through carefully to make sure the write-ups and scandal aren't blown off as mere political crossfire, Max works to keep the story as more of a public interest.

But he's not so mature as to be against shit talking any politicians in his private time, and when allegations try to come that he has a bias, his response, to a fellow journalist, was to ask who 'the other guy' was, to ask for half an hour to look into him, and then to give a drunken, angry rant on why that mother fucker sucks, too.

That exact Youtube video is what Shawn asks Ash about, the very minute the news cycle is about Ash himself. Given it's Shawn, it's up to Ash as to whether he views it as an attempt at a loving distraction, or if the boy just genuinely found it more interesting, with Ash's sordid sexual past being something he'd been briefed on already, mostly against his will. Unless Ash's sex life was gonna cross with his (it wasn't-'--haha, unless?' his texts may have said), the reruns weren't as fun as fresh drunk old men.

Maybe it was impressive Max managed not to have told Ash about that. Or maybe he just sort of forgot, himself. Once the ankle monitor was taken off--something a politician pushed for when making an accusation that a target of his was just trying to cripple the investigation with house arrest--Max did head out of the house a lot more. He was able to drive again, short distances. New York traffic had ample opportunities to stop and rest, in comfy gridlocks. A drunk driver could be sober by the time he got to the second traffic light.

Not that Max wanted to drink so little he'd be sober that fast. That he was in a sour mood, even after the guilty verdict came down at the end of the day's trial, was probably expected. His phone was off. He wasn't dealing with the array of questions and calls from sources looking for payback information, nor from friends, or old friends who wanted to lay claim to that title now for convenience.

But if Ash wanted to bask in that limelight that was thrust upon him, he had no shortage of calls coming in, now that his brutal, week long prison rape escapades were the hottest story, by a number of meanings of the word.]

[When the flight takes off, the pilot--who must not be named--announces their landing will be the middle of Saturday morning local time. The in-flight entertainment is a tablet with several articles tabbed up for Ash's perusal.

Asians in New York City have been turning up brutally murdered, in a manner many articles find a connection between a rash of violent, though not seemingly racially charged youth gang member deaths from last fall/Winter. The writers don't know of Colonel Foxx's existence to draw the parallel, and thus see it as what to them is another intergang conflict after a year of relative quiet on that front.

In the days leading up have been deaths in other cities, though without the same visual brutality upon discovery. Thus, the news sites have yet to be drawing parallels, aside from a few blogs trending to Stop Asian Hate.

In Chicago, male Chinese national Ling Minghao was found cleanly sniped within his bedroom. With no open window blinds, there's suspicion of it being an inside job, within the house, and yet there are no signs of poisoning, nor other injuries. The bullet hole is found even through the curtain.

In Boston, female Taiwanese national Ling Qungying, wife of a rich Taiwanese banker who had married into her rich family and kept her name despite the shame that would normally bring to an already prestigious first son of a Chinese family, was shot. The angle of the bullet was noted to be a mystery, coming from above to hit the brainstem at the back of the skull with no penetration of the straight lines which would have been needed to make a straight shot, and security cameras of the outdoor orchestra showing nothing but an extremely windy day; there's theory her husband at her side was the real target, but even then the shot at him would be deemed irrational.

In Milwaukee was the death of Song Hongyu and Jiang Zhiyan. Hongyu was a rebellious seventeen year old Chinese national from a very rich family tied to the Chinese Triads, and Zhiyan his thirty year old translator, body guard and attendant; a sniper shot at a concrete wall had him killed instantly with the debris managing to blast and kill Zhiyan as well, in front of several stunned gangsters. This was believed to be a set up by the small street gang he was meeting up with, due to Hongyu's younger sister, Chen Lihua, aged ten, found at the scene unconscious due to what was believed to be an oral poisoning but miraculously uninjured. And yet, it was the small local gang he had been meeting with who had called the police to fetch the body and look into the crime in the first place, deepening the mystery.]

[Ibe'd be pissed if Max returned to the hotel without the pictures; that's his excuse for lingering, thinking he'll have to get them before the night ends. But with Ash having stormed off, it seems best to let things cool a little. He's sure they won't be able to talk quietly, even inside.

He'll drink alone, then. This is why they can't be together; he'd meant to help him after a hard day of emotional labor.

It's a "worry" not-date.]

Called it.

[So all that time, Ash did love Eiji. Just like he thought. Max was just safer, in terms of being able to take care of himself a little more, but Eiji had been the one he wanted to date. Max was just who he could settle for. The Max that had briefly believed he'd managed to surpass Eiji was the one who deserved whatever pain he was in now.

But ultimately, he pours the glass back in the bottle without a sip. Tomorrow he has to be sober enough to help the one Ash loves, and has always loved, through his grief, and fix up his house.

If he'd just died back then with those gunshot wounds, it'd have been perfect.

No. If he'd died then, Ash would be with Blanca, unreachable by anyone. Including Eiji. Max had to be alive so that this connection could be had to Eiji again. He hated this casting. But he knew it. That's the one comfort: he was right. He knew it. He was right.

No matter how many things seemed like mistakes, such as heading out to Texas, he was right. His only real mistake was letting himself distrust those instincts, because he wanted Ash to prove him wrong. Even Ash couldn't do that.

Ash took those pictures in. Eiji's his treasure. Always has been. That was his other mistake. He knew who Ash's soulmate was; this is all his punishment for trying to play a part bigger than he was cast.

An hour later he decides letting Ibe be mad is better than dealing with Ash, and returns to the hotel.]

[When Ash's alarm goes off at 7:00, despite having given up on the matter as impossible, despite his phone open on his stomach, half in his hand and only off because of the sleep timer that kicks in after so long without activity, Max is asleep next to him. It's a hard sleep, too; normally one to at least open his eyes as a formality when someone moves about in the room, even if spoken to, even if Kuroneko who had joined them during the night is spoken to, he won't stir.]

[Ash probably isn't surprised that Max is awake when he wakes up. Even if Max weren't reduced to going days now fighting sleep until Ash gets tired enough of his being tired to drug him, Ash is usually not a morning person, and all the more when pushing to make it to midnight was a strain; he would have expected Max to awaken first at the best of times. Maybe he is surprised to find out he hasn't headed to make breakfast for him, despite his usual fixation with keeping Ash fed. But he instead sits next to him still in bed, with Kuroneko having moved to sit on one broad shoulder and falling asleep there. Asher has gone down to the kitchen now, expecting breakfast. Ash's other boyfriend would've made them breakfast by now, you know.]

[A Chinese man who is definitely a mature adult and not a teenager checks in to the Hyatt, one of their more exclusive rooms, along with his half-white half brother who is also certainly not a teenager and most definitely not the notorious gang leader wanted on suspicion of a September 11th New York City bombing in retaliation for an angry rogue sect of anti-American zealots.

The entire suite floor has been rented out, and it requires a special key card in the elevator and on the stairs to enter that floor. But they can rent one of the still very luxe rooms directly beneath.

A familiar white limo is in the car garage, though the opportunity to gawk or investigate is slim, between the security cameras and live guards.

There's still no contact from Max, but the Department of Homeland Security has become involved, and has begun to enter Ash's territory with intent to arrest any known figures within his gang to bring in for questioning.]

Day 284, Wednesday, Oct 1st

[Max sleeps; has as he'd thought, he achieves nothing, and he's not even a small-talk source of comfort or somebody to soothe Ash's nerves before his two AM meeting with yet another Chinese teenager. Something about Chinese teenagers seems to always spell trouble for Ash, and now he's in a mess involving no less than four of them.

But Max doesn't move. If Ash comes to see him, setting that pill counter and the note about the smoothie, he may notice he hasn't so much as shifted a finger. Ash has had to turn to painting, but there's no need to lock that room before, or even for a long while after. The only one in this house besides him is a breathing corpse.

But Shawn's ready and waiting for him at one, prepared to be decked out a wires that Ling's likely to hang him with if he finds out about them.]

[By morning, Max's texts are mostly jibberish but the article he delivers to Peter at 3:30 AM is well polished, especially given in the e-mail and subject body the entire line was off by one or more--- 'yjr stiv;r er ys;lrff snnpiy' for 'The article we talked about' and the body was similarly incoherent.

Everything hurts. He knows Ash would tell him to take a damn sleeping pill already. He knows a lot of things. He knows Ash is tired of his pity party. He knows even if Ash were to tell him something comforting, he wouldn't believe it. But being in this brain-rotted state of sleepless delirium is actually further from consciousness. In sleep, he dreams, and there he is. Right now, there's a state as far from himself, as if his self has decayed, like inebriation, and that's nice enough he decides it calls for some actual inebriation. They've got hard liquor and his publication calls for some, so he's going to toast to himself at sunrise, and let the cats hear him tell them in loud, slurring detail about the time Eiji saved Ash in the sewers, that their Ash is all sewer stinky now again, and that Ash won't come home because he's fantasizing about better times with a better useless sidekick, and also he's probably blowing Blanca to get magical answers, or maybe just because he likes men who can react. At any rate, they should come outside with him he decides, and he will also pour alcohol into shot glasses that he'll set on the ground level for them.

By 8:00, he's Shawn's problem. His texting skills have deteriorated enough to switch to voice.

Shawn puts up with it for about fifteen minutes, but he's got things to do, like wait in the bar for Ash to wake up and see how things have been going.

He is then Jenkins's and Charlie's and even Kent's problem. All of them are surely grateful to Ash for having encouraged him to build and reach out to a friend group a little more.]

[At 7:20 on morning of the 9th, there's a text from Kelly.]

Hope you're not dead??? Boss got my note and says he'll either look at the cameras himself or try to call you when he's got free time to watch with you if he can. He has to do the bank run and morning rush stuff and all though. NiNi!

[And at 10:30, there's a text from Max.]

No school, I take it.

[As for Shawn, having asked Alex if Ash was staying here rather than at home--he had a hunch, he'll just wait around on premises for Ash to wake up. Talking in person suits him better anyway.]

[Max isn't awake early enough to be shocked by how early in the morning Ash can pull it together to text, nor is he shocked by waking up first and alone. Although that he's going to be in a good coma with the pill and his exhaustion probably isn't a great cause for concern for Ash in not getting a response. It's around 11:00 AM that Ash gets a thumbs up emoji as an answer.

In actuality, things are not thumbs up. Max wakes up alone, and his mind combines the dream with reality to quickly determine Ash has left him to finally take that flight to Japan; unaware he's awake, even while aware that's not very realistic, he lies there looking at the empty space not even occupied by cats, for several minutes, before the need to use the bathroom finally gets him moving enough to come back to reality just a little more, to process that all of it were dreams, that he has no right to get depressed, to blame Ash for any dreams. Nor for any realities. He told him to take on Blanca. He's urged him to take up Eiji when he's ready.

Ash had to go without breakfast today. Probably. He'll check the kitchen for signs of cooking before realizing the texts he read about Ash leaving last night weren't part of the dream, but were real; so he's living that double life, away from him now. Things are dangerous, and Max... sits at home and worries about food. Things are hazy. Maybe the good parts of yesterday were a dream too; at best, they were a delusion that really physically happened, he realizes.

He could call Alex and ask for a full update on the situation. He could probably ask Ash directly and get one.

Instead, he tends to his own work e-mails. He'll be on a few major shows soon, after all. Time to get his data together, time to follow up with some of those politicians, time to get with Charlie about how the lawsuits and investigations into The Unit are going.

Time to reach out to Shawn, since he does have his number. In confidence.

Misplaced confidence. At 12:30 Ash is texted by Shawn.]

Your old man's a drug addict~~

[Also today, the girl who is not presently covered in twigs but still looks as if she's been rolling around on carpet for static, frizzy hair and clothes meant for painting a house more than actually going out, glares at him bitterly through class, even during a test that should have her more distracted by it. But Ash is surely too busy to deal with that.

All the more when at 2:00, Wu is calling him. He's more of a caller than a texter.]

[Lying there without sleep does in fact get boring. Mind numbingly so. Worse even still as the alcohol wears off without the pleasure of sleeping it off. The night is long. It's insufferably long. If asked if it's worse when his brain is active or inactive, Max doesn't have an answer. The cats become slightly active around 3:00 in the morning, but only in the sense of moving enough to remind Max they're even there. They're as good a cue as any to relive the cabin experience, to think over how it would have gone with Blanca. Then there's time to think of how it would go if Ash had been alone. Or with Eiji. All of them are better outcomes.

Ash would call it wallowing in self pity. Maybe it is. It's not any easier to stop for knowing that than it is for Ash to think better of himself. And just like that, if it were a matter of lining up the facts, the simple fact that he has the title of boyfriend has trapped Ash to him, and he wins over all of them, because Ash gets to choose, and if sticking with the guy he feels guilt bound to makes him feel less shitty for breaking up a family, the least Max can do is pretend to be happy too. But is dishonesty really right? Isn't it when honesty is just annoying wallowing?

He wouldn't want Ash to fake it, though. Knowing Ash wouldn't fake it was how he could handle a sex life that was so one-sided, in the end. The lack of response was better than a lie.

Why can't Ash just be with the people who make him happy? If he wasn't holding him back with the guilt of being someone he was committed to now, at least then he might believe more in their happy times, since Ash pursued other options and could just ditch him when he was inconvenient. Which he was going to be for a long time, now. Only, Ash felt bad about why. So he was trapped.

He was probably about due for another weekend with Blanca, though. This time he'd prove he could be a good boy, but maybe that'd be far off for how badly he took it last time.

If he was going to be a cuckold, it should've been to Eiji instead.

Maybe he's rooting for Eiji now so that Blanca, too, can be cucked. But it'd only be possible with Blanca as protection for Eiji.

Ash choose to be trapped with him. And if Ash wanted, he'd just leave when he wanted, too. Just like he ultimately took on the tutoring he wanted, invited Blanca back into his life like he wanted, fucked him like he wanted, and--even at Max's insistence--took him on as a lover, which he wanted, the only reason Max insisted.

This same cycle of thoughts every sleepless night is tiresome, and yet never enough to actually sleep.

Around 9:00, he'll untangle himself from Ash, finding him still sleeping. Lying there for over twelve hours without doing a thing isn't good for anyone.]

[Ash doesn't have classes until ten and today, mercifully, Max doesn't bother trying to get him up as if preparing for an 8:00 class. It crosses his mind that Tuesday and Thursday may have a separate schedule, but despite heading down at 5:00--sleep wasn't happening, he had figured, sometime before Ash had turned out the light---he won't start putting together breakfast until 9:00. It's simple today, a smoothie he can pop into the freezer, and some eggs he starts on at 9:30. In between a certain sleepless sluggishiness and handling a few matters on his phone, it's a slow moving morning. He can be sloppier in the mornings. Ash won't wake up until about ten minutes after he comes down, anyway.

The cats stay with Ash. Naturally.]

[A blood transfusion and a hand injury normally aren't inpatient procedures, but there are quite a few extenuating circumstances. A lack of party to see to his safe discharge and return home, his status as an out of state resident, and most importantly, Max failing to give any insurance information before passing out all lead to Ash waking up in a private room.

Nurses being sweet on him isn't anything new. If anything, that they don't seem to want to do anything more than enjoy looking at him and talking sweetly and reassuringly to him, more than flirtatiously, might be a novelty. If he asks, they can breezily break HIPPA to answer about the man he rode in with; he has an arm injury, but fortunately nothing to a joint or bone, and nothing that is expected to have long term damage, though certainly he shouldn't be lifting much with it. Not that he should be lifting much anyways, but those seemed to be pre-existing injuries.

If he's willing, the police would like to hear is story, to see if it aligns with the one Max had told, but given his identity seems to check out, it's mostly a formality. Of course, Ash is free to wander the hospital, ask to be guided anywhere he likes, or relax in his own private room for a time. Max will be checking himself out at 7:00 AM if Ash hasn't made his way to him yet. He has therapy to go do today. He still has to win therapy, to tell Ash about it when he sees him, after all.

And also to fetch the cats. The police station is no place for Asher. Maybe for Kuroneko, he's lovable, but cops have some weird authority thing, and a cat who won't roll over and play nice like a dog won't necessarily be as eagerly accepted. So he fears. The fact that Asher has had that spunk and personality shocked right out of him isn't something he wants to think of as long lasting; if the cats are, in his mind, Ash and Eiji, then Ash(er) should bounce right back, no matter how much false bravado it takes.]

[The status quo has been returned, like some sitcom or cartoon that always assures it does by the time the credits roll. Maybe it's pithy, but Max wouldn't mind a continuation of the daily bits and patterns, the happenings that were too big of events in the criminal and victim's minds to write off as merely a 'season 1 filler'. But they hadn't been together long enough, even if the only frame of reference for 'long' is the time they've known each other, for their relationship to be a status quo.

But this time when he sleeps, he isn't back at the hideout. That was an even shorter span of his life, and back then he wasn't aware of most of the pain in his body. You might think being asleep means he isn't aware of anything, good or bad, but some pain is persistent. To bring back a theme from the prior day, it begs for attention. Max responds by drawing back to other, more painful times and places.

Normally, whatever Max dreams, it doesn't show. But come three in the morning, sweat forms, his face contorts, the bed shifts with his weight. Normally, whenever Max dreams anything too bad, he wakes up. That's probably poetic or a reference to him having a good life, he should remember that when he dallies into writing again, but this time, unless someone decides he should leave before the film's finished, he sleeps until nine.]

[For many college students, it's not Friday night that's crazy and wild, but Thursday night. As for why, it's because working adults are guaranteed to pull in the money on Friday night, but if they offer Thursday night specials, broke college kids find it easy to blow off a Friday class or wander in hung over and make up the study loss over the weekend. Many college kids go home on the weekends as well, making Thursday a superior party night for "the whole gang."

So really, in having Ash wake up in unexpected arms when he's sure he went to bed alone, Max is helping prepare the boy for a common Thursday Night Fugue experience, a Friday morning TFLN, so to speak. If Blanca could go from teacher to lover, why shouldn't Max go from lover to teacher?

So, generously for Ash's education, Max sleeps, as long as Ash allows him; granted, getting out of his bear hold will probably require waking him, even if Ash is of a mind to let him sleep rather than to remove a few of his internal organs for the violation of trust and space.]

[...No answer? He waits.

Maybe he was insensitive with that one. But doesn't he have a right to protect his pride as someone who was dumped? He waits.

It's not like Ash is the only one he can't fuck. Blanca will come to mind as surely as Ash himself any time he tries not only with a partner (Haha. Ha ha ha ha. Real funny. Not into a humiliation kink so that ain't happening.) but even just trying to bust a quick nut to some porn or something. He waits.

He's done being gay, straight, anything. He's practically Eiji, now. He waits.

He waits, and he hopes Ash breaks off with Blanca, too. For such a sexy bastard, Ash leaves a lot of people in his wake Max is pretty sure will never fuck again. Eiij's not the best representative since he came in a virgin, but he's not a writer anymore, the details aren't so important. He starts to type a 'good night' that this time is properly, fully erased, and never sends. He sleeps.

By morning, Nima is up, showered, shaved, and going to pick up Max and the kitties because they're all going to have breakfast together. Ben doesn't quite think it's worth showing off with Ash's own cooking prowess, but the truth is he's a little proud of his capacity for pancake art cartoons and the fact that he can flip flapjacks really high in a pan. Rusty, for his part, is very proud of his ability to roll around in front of Ash and show off his stomach for pets.

When Nima returns with Max, she also has a very small parting gift, an oversized sleep shirt that reads 'World's Best Grandson'. It is just a sleep shirt, he's not expected to wear it in public but one can never have too many sleep shirts, she insists.

Rusty wants to smell the cats. Kuroneko is terrified of both the dog and his nose. Asher dutifully remains in front of Kuroneko and meows loudly in protest, which Rusty takes as a greeting and happily barks back. He tried to pull Ash to the cats, either because he thinks Ash needs to see them, or maybe because he wants Ash to take them out of the carrier so he can play with them. They are toys for him, right? Since he brought Ash his Santa last night?]

[Lubbock Preston Smith International Airport is a famous site, located in Lubbock County, in a city called Lubbock. Lubbock is decidedly not a region renowned for creativity in names. In August, it's extremely hot, even if the city is more on the northern side of Texas, if one had to declare north or south within the state. It's a large and major city, with a lot of activity, a lot of traffic, and a lot going on in general.

As for Max, by now Ash has probably received his package. It's a shame, not being able to see his face. He couldn't wrap them, not with the way they were sent, but he did have a hand at paper folding. Ash had called him selfish, and he was probably right. It was one of Jessica's favorite insults, too. With her, he wrote it off as projection. With Ash, there's no grounds to claim that. In the parables about how a person can't save both the spider and the butterfly, Ash is someone who might just die for a literal butterfly. So he'll just have to take that label. If he can't keep himself from trying to send him gifts, he'll at least try to give him what he said he wanted: a sign he was recovering. Two crappy cats folded with his injured hand better be worth the embarrassment: if Ash thinks he's that clumsy with his uninjured right hand, then it means not only did he move on to a better bedmate, he's started to retroactively remember Max as worse. If Ash doesn't think that thought crossed his mind when he sent out the box, doesn't think Max would honestly rather stab himself in his good hand rather than deal with that thought, then he's too dumb for college after all. Oh, he might pass the classes, but the part he's actually there for...

Well, in a few years, when Ash makes it big again (he can't imagine the kid staying out of the news), he'll find out how it all went for him. This time he'll be in his reader's shoes, taking whatever story the writers see fit to sculpt. He's no longer in a position to shape his life, much less to relay it to anyone if he were of a mind to.]

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Max Lobo

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Max Lobo

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HMD - Come nag at me. I'm sure I've earned it.

Day 377, Sunday, December 16th

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Day 291, Tuesday October 8th

Day 287, Friday, Oct 4th

Day 286, Thursday, Oct 3rd

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Day 255 - Tuesday, September 2nd

Day 148 - Tuesday, August 26th

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Day 236 - Friday, August 14th