"But that's just it, sir." Dexter sat back, crossing his arms. "None of it is real. Being an alien, this 'war' you keep talking about; it's all something you made up, even though I don't understand why."
He sighed quietly, looking away. It was hard to face Max's complete sincerity when he talked about his delusions. "Your name is Max Vyer," he said, softly but firmly. "I've been your bodyguard since you were sixteen, as I said before. Your mother hired me," A faint, there-and-gone quirk of the lips, "after you apparently took something illegal at a party and jumped from a schoolmate's roof into their pool. It was my job to make sure incidents like that never happened again." Another sigh, Dexter's voice tinged with faintly fond exasperation. "Not that you've ever made my job easy for me, sir."
It had almost been...fun at times, watching after Max, not that Dexter would have admitted as much. Doing so would only have encouraged him. It had certainly been an interesting job; dull moments only meant Max was planning something especially outrageous. At times it had been all Dexter could do just to keep up with him. And then Madam Vyer had gotten the bright idea of forcing her wayward son to settle down by way of marriage.
"Your trouble started soon after your mother announced your engagement," Dexter continued. His choice of words were deliberate; the first Max had heard about it was one morning at breakfast. "Katherine was the daughter of an acquaintance of hers; she came from a good, respectable family. But you were against the idea, so much so that you simply...left." A runaway, at the age of twenty-two. Madame had pitched a fit; Dexter had wished he could join her. "I finally managed to track you down, but you were confused and upset, and not just because you had apparently been drinking non-stop since you left the estate." And that wasn't even counting whatever else Max had took while out from under Dexter's eye. "You seemed to feel I was there to drag you back to Madame by your hair, if necessary." In fact, those had been his orders. "But when I saw how upset you were, sir...well. We talked it out --" If a drunken confession of Max's doubts about his own sexuality could count as talking. "--and I eventually persuaded you to come back with me. There was talk about postponing the wedding, but then..." Dexter closed his eyes briefly for a moment. Thinking about what had happened next was too painful to bear. "You had some kind of breakdown. Started talking about some kind of war between various kinds of alien, you didn't recognize any of your family...The whole thing had to be hushed up."
He looked back up at Max, frowning deeply. "And that's how you ended up here. You really don't remember any of that, sir?"
no subject
He sighed quietly, looking away. It was hard to face Max's complete sincerity when he talked about his delusions. "Your name is Max Vyer," he said, softly but firmly. "I've been your bodyguard since you were sixteen, as I said before. Your mother hired me," A faint, there-and-gone quirk of the lips, "after you apparently took something illegal at a party and jumped from a schoolmate's roof into their pool. It was my job to make sure incidents like that never happened again." Another sigh, Dexter's voice tinged with faintly fond exasperation. "Not that you've ever made my job easy for me, sir."
It had almost been...fun at times, watching after Max, not that Dexter would have admitted as much. Doing so would only have encouraged him. It had certainly been an interesting job; dull moments only meant Max was planning something especially outrageous. At times it had been all Dexter could do just to keep up with him. And then Madam Vyer had gotten the bright idea of forcing her wayward son to settle down by way of marriage.
"Your trouble started soon after your mother announced your engagement," Dexter continued. His choice of words were deliberate; the first Max had heard about it was one morning at breakfast. "Katherine was the daughter of an acquaintance of hers; she came from a good, respectable family. But you were against the idea, so much so that you simply...left." A runaway, at the age of twenty-two. Madame had pitched a fit; Dexter had wished he could join her. "I finally managed to track you down, but you were confused and upset, and not just because you had apparently been drinking non-stop since you left the estate." And that wasn't even counting whatever else Max had took while out from under Dexter's eye. "You seemed to feel I was there to drag you back to Madame by your hair, if necessary." In fact, those had been his orders. "But when I saw how upset you were, sir...well. We talked it out --" If a drunken confession of Max's doubts about his own sexuality could count as talking. "--and I eventually persuaded you to come back with me. There was talk about postponing the wedding, but then..." Dexter closed his eyes briefly for a moment. Thinking about what had happened next was too painful to bear. "You had some kind of breakdown. Started talking about some kind of war between various kinds of alien, you didn't recognize any of your family...The whole thing had to be hushed up."
He looked back up at Max, frowning deeply. "And that's how you ended up here. You really don't remember any of that, sir?"