[There's Max, in the nostalgic orange jumpsuit, the stubble he'd had when they first met, a little thicker for not having the dexterity to use a razor right some days, and looking to have lost some weight without unhealthy oral escapes to inhale to fill the void of Ashless days. A permanent scowl is etched on his face, sketchy and suspicious of every human sound. His situation likely doesn't match Ash's, but no human being interacting with him has been a good thing for him in the last two weeks. So even when he does see Ash, it takes a few seconds to pull a positive emotion out of the crusty, dusty, cobwebbed portion of his heart, and he rises with some strain, hurrying up to the bars.]
no subject
Ash! You look like shit!
[He greets, happily.]