"Look, it's not like it matters," he says, "She's okay, it's cool. I thought I saw something. I didn't."

Even he doesn't believe everything's cool, though. Not when he's still got the image of himself, just down the road, taking one to the leg. Not when the idea of it has him fucking terrified, not when it brings Over There racing back like he never came home at all.

Sometimes, Max thinks he'd give just about anything to get a free shot to punch LBJ in the face.