"My name's Dexter, sir," he reminded Max, with a quiet sigh. How many times had he already said that today, and yet it seemed to do no good at all.

These things took time, he reminded himself, more sternly by far than any tone he'd ever taken with Max. The younger man had gone through a dreadful shock, in addition to the drugs he'd taken; a single conversation wasn't going to make him well again. That was what the doctors were for...Now if only he could convince Max of the need to listen to them...

For a moment, as he continued to hold Max and pet his hair, it all seemed so terribly pointless to Dexter. Who knew? Perhaps Max was better of here, after all.