Shrugging out of his coat, he tossed it across the coat and stepped out of his shoes, walking barefoot toward the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

"You say it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter," he agreed, and for a moment, it sounded like he was completely disinterested, or at the very least, content to let Max pretend like nothing was going on. But then:

"But if you think I haven't noticed that there's something going on with you, or that I don't want to hear it," he said, turning to look Max in the eyes, "You're wrong."

It wasn't any sort of declaration. It was the truth, take it or leave it.

"I'm not going to force it out of you, or beg you to talk about your fucking feelings, so if that's what you came here for, you might as well go." He gestured toward the door.