Elliott opened his mouth to answer Max, but the sound of a door being broken down sent his mind into running motion and he hardly had time for anything else. "I swear. I'll tell you later. For now, take it on good authority that these are bad men and I can't say they didn't deserve a little karmic justice." Even if that wasn't why he'd made the conscious decision to do so, it sounded about right. "Lets go."

He took off down the hallway again, shelving the thought that his resolve to not lie had been directly followed by a slight lie. The whole 'lying as a first response thing' was getting kind of scummy. Compulsive liars were lame, even if criminal histories did give them every reason not to tell the truth.

The truth was, Ragnarok really had no motive for what they did other than to create chaos, and he himself had decided getting gangs to fight each other was a wise and poetic goal Ragnarok could get behind. Like some sort of anti-vigilantism. He wasn't stopping criminals. He was being a criminal. But his criminal act stopped criminals by causing them to fight amongst themselves. In theory it was great. In application, there was a lot of potential for people to get hurt in the crossfire. Including Max. And, he supposed, himself.

He ran in silence, the only sound he made was his combat boots on the floor. They hit the storage tunnel, and Elliott started shouldering his way through boxes. He could see a ladder up ahead.

Elliot made a very valid point. The morality of the decisions that had caused the pursuit where irrelevant until after they were free of the hatchet men. His personal experience with Elliot was pretty small, basically contained to to their one fight. Max knew the guy was a warrior though, he had fought admirably in their battle.

"Deal." Max replied.

They made it to the storage tunnel and Elliot started pushing through the boxes being stored in the room. Max followed the path he made. He could see the ladder that would lead to their freedom. There was a tell tale whooshing noise behind him and Max looked back just in time to see a hatchet flying at his face. He shoved a box between him and the projectile. It sunk into the crate and Max pushed it down to the floor.

Four men stood in the doorway. Asian, angry, suits, check. They were each holding a hatchet. One of the men in middle had glowing red eyes. Apparently the hatchet men were pretty familiar with mutants. One of them gave a whistle and there was a popping noise as a fifth man appeared in a cloud of smoke. He perched at the foot of the ladder.

The hatchet men had a teleporter on their side, no wonder they had caught up to them so fast. They could cover ground so much faster than Max and Elliot. Max swore, there was no way they were getting out of here without a fight.

"Well sh**," Max

He had been expecting and dreading the fight for a while. The buildup had been slow, then fast, then slow again, a real 'hurry up and wait' situation. They'd been attacked, fled, been chased, fled, and now they were basically cornered like animals after a hunt. It was enough to really piss a man off. He HADN'T EVEN DONE anything except plan and prepare to initiate something brutal against a bunch of criminals. From criminal to criminal, that was a sign of respect. Violent, disrespectful, calculating respect. They should have patted him on the back, not tried butchering him!!!

Elliott turned to shoot a quick glance at the men in the doorway.

Somewhere along the way, the men had picked up a guy. Several, in fact, but Elliott assumed three were the ones who had started the chase. Four men with weapons. Against two without. What did they have? Boxes. He turned to go.

A fifth man appeared in front of them, in a cloud of smoke. Elliott cursed loud and proud, in tones even a person who spoke no English could understand and respect. Max joined him in the cursing. Elliott was grateful for the assist.

The storage tunnel was full of crates and boxes. There wasn't much room to fight. Around him and Max, there was barely enough room to stand side by side. The room seemed like it had been filled by a Tetris master. One who also liked to stack.

Elliott stepped up next to Max, and rested a hand on the guy's shoulder. He flicked a glance to the man, and smiled. "You go right, I go left?"

He was on Max's left side so the choice was arbitrary, but Max had the red eyed man on his side. Nice of Elliott. Without waiting for confirmation, the green man surged forward, yanking the hatchet from the box. Or at least, he tried to. It was stuck...

Usually in this situation, it was good to rush the bad guys without exposing your back to them. He had wanted to rip the hatchet free and use it, but it. Would not. Budge! He jerked it back and forth, using his leg to push against the box and get leverage, and-- his back was completely exposed.

The red-eyed man smirked at the teleporter, and the man vanished in another puff of ninja grade smoke. A moment later, he appeared behind the green man in another smoky puff. He drew back his hatchet arm, ready to bring it down on Elliott's back-- just as the hatchet Elliott had been trying to free gave way. Elliott had pulled too hard. His arm, with the hatchet, swung back. Crunch. The hatchet was caught on something. Elliott turned to look over his shoulder. He let go of the hatchet.

"You can keep it." He told the teleporter as he stepped back from him, sick look on his face. "It seems like you're kind of attached..." The man fell over, hatchet sticking out at an odd angle. The odd part about it was that it was in his head. Whoops. "As I was saying... left."

The men charged... with an impressively well-coordinated yell of rage.

Elliot picked his side, which seemed a little unfair to Max but now was not the time for bickering. They needed to work together they were trapped in the tunnel and the five men had them where they wanted them. Elliot reached for the hatchet as Max stepped up to square off against the four men. Elliot seemed to be having difficulties and Max took an open stance to protect him from the four men on Max's side.

There was a popping noise and a cloud of smoke appeared behind Elliott. The green man finally got the hatchet free and Max saw the man's arm fly back unaware as Max gave a shout of warning. The hatchet stuck into the teleporter head and Max felt a lurch of revulsion in his gut. The loss of a mutant life was tragic, no matter the circumstances. Elliot seemed just as surprised as the teleporter and Max wanted to say something but was cut off as the four men in the door charged in rage.

The red eyed man was in the lead and Max saw the glowing eyes analyzing him. Max charged to meet him and as the man swung his axe at Max he sidestepped and grabbed the man's arm. He needed room to fight, the floor was covered with boxes but luckily the ceiling had no such restrictions. Max changed gravity on himself and the red eyed man and they flew upward into the cealing.

Max flipped mid air and landed on the sloped roof of the tunnel on his feet. It was tough terrain, the slope of the tunnel making keeping his footing difficult. The man threw a volley of blows with his hatchet that kept Max on the run. Max reached into his pack and pulled out a yoyo. A length of metal wire spread out between his hands and as the man came in Max brought the wire up and caught his elbow.

Max twisted and wrapped the wire around the man's arm, twisting and bringing it behind his back. The man cried out in surprise and released the hatchet, which started to fall to the floor below.

"Heads up." Max shouted in warning.

So yeah. He had killed that man. He wasn't dwelling on it. It was cool. Accidents do happen. Those sorts of accidents are terrible for business and certainly would make his mug stand out if he ever encountered these Triad chumps again. He was not a good man. He had sacrificed a lot for business. For Ragnarok. He'd set off bombs. He hadn't liked that. He'd started targeting mob members. It had felt less directionless. Nameless faces had been affected by actions he would have deemed more terrorist than chaotic in nature, and Ragnarok had not really had any goal beyond that. He'd accidentally killed that kid, with Astrid, and that girl had loved it. She had loved to kill. With him, it left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd stomached it, because those were the people he was associating with, and you don't start preaching morals to business associates. It's a prime way to get yourself offed for dissenting, or to lose that business opportunity, if not your life or livelihood. He had killed because it had been an accident, and it had been self defense. Still, the act of murder had felt terribly unprofessional to him. And also, out of character... like a lot of things he had done lately. That was food for thought.

If Elliott had not joined Ragnarok, he would have stayed neutral. He would have kept his hand out of the messy business of explosions. He would not have accidentally killed a little piggy for being a nuisance, even if it had ultimately helped him start off a war between two rival gangs. He would not have had to associate with idiots who don't check their sources, and walk in blind to traps. He would not have tried blowing up the Triad building, and would not have killed s gang member. Even if some of the Ragnarok work had been fun, chaos for the sake of chaos...? Yeah. Not so fun. If he'd really wanted chaos, if he'd really decided to stick with all things chaotic like Ragnarok wanted... he probably would have started being a masked vigilante and just gone with it. Because there is nothing more chaotic than a villain pretending to be good. Elliott had not spent a lot of time considering this, as he ran towards the Triad gang members, ready to fight. But he had thought of some of it. And more would likely come to him later, in the dark of the night while he was curled up in his bed. And it would make him think things. And wonder. What was he gonna do?

Back to the battle! Max clashed with red eyes and Elliott caught a flash of upward movement as the gravity manipulator took the battle to the ceiling. But it happened so fast, he hardly had time to pay attention as Max started dancing on the ceiling. He was busy focusing on the remaining trio of Triad.

Elliott had to break up the assault, or else they would overwhelm him. He thought he had said left. The green man had not meant 'you take one guy and I will take whoever we have left.' Instead of continuing to meet their rush, the alien broke away and to the right. He turned and aimed a kick at a precarious stack of crates. Another kick to get it moving, and the entire thing crashed down between the men, causing one to be separated from the others as the last two men jumped away. The others were blocked off by the makeshift wall of three crates. And suddenly, three became one.

Alone, and reduced to fighting one on one, the Triad man suddenly felt out of place. He was used to working with his brothers. Not on his own. Elliott's mouth slipped into a cheeky grin as he stepped towards the guy, and the Triad member took a single step back. Then, Elliott ran at him. He came in low, ducking the horizontal slash from the hatchet, then brought his knee up into the mans gut when he was inside the Triad mans guard. The knee to the gut sent the man crashing backwards into a wooden crate. He hit his head, hard. The crate shattered around him as his two friends vaulted the crate wall. Thug one's eyes drifted closed. The hatchet tumbled from his grip. K.O.! Onto round two. Thug three and thug two.

As the two men landed, feet clopping against the ground, a voice from above called 'Heads up!' Tch. He wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by, and he wasn't going to be double-teamed. He crouched for a split second, then launched himself ten feet into the air. He caught the falling hatchet, and turned in mid air to take in his enemies below as he fell. Two men, each with a hatchet. Sneers on their Grumpy faces. He took a mental snap shot. Landed a moment later, down on one knee, one hand pressed against the ground to brace him. The other clutched the hatchet, safely held away from him, parallel to the ground. His focus came up from the concrete of the subway tunnel to lock on the duo. Eyes narrowed. His antennae twitched in anticipation. This was going to be good.

He rushed at them, and caught the first thug's hatchet with the neck of his own, turning with the catch to keep control of the man's arm as he kicked at the other man to keep him off him and create distance. Kick, kick, swing. He went with the flow of the motion, and tore his hatchet in towards him at the right moment to pull the trapped guy his way. The man wasn't expecting it. He also wasn't expecting an elbow in the face. He came away from it, reeling. That bought Elliott breathing room. A moment of space and distance so he could focus on the man he had kicked at, while the one he'd trapped recovered.

"Any time now..." Elliott muttered. Max could land any time now and help him split these two up. But for now... the man slashed at him. Elliott dodged away, and swung his own hatchet. He could do that, too. The man hopped to the side, but Elliott's slash had been halfhearted. He broke it halfway through, making it more of a feint while he turned and performed a side snap kick at the man he had struck with his elbow. Then, he turned and threw the hatchet at the other man. The problem with the whole scenario, though, was that while he split his focus, he couldn't easily finish them. When he wanted to rush in and take one opponent down, the second would force him to turn and reevaluate his focus... which in turn let the first guy recover. The hatchet missed, but made the man he'd thrown it at dodge. Breathing room, again. But that same old problem. He wasn't fully comfortable fighting with a hatchet yet, the only reason he'd thrown the weapon away. If it had been a stick, yeah, he could do that. But a bladed weapon that wasnt a knife? Nah, he was good without. He needed to break things up, or the men who actually knew how to use their weapons would gut him like a fish.

Elliott dove off to the side while the two men regrouped from his attacks. His footsteps echoed as he climbed the nearest crate. The two men looked up at him from below.

Antennae twitched, twitched.

Elliot caught the dropped hatchet like an action movie star and Max let out a sigh of relief. It was short lived however as the red eyed mutant spun and planted his fist into the side of Max's face. The young dancer stumbled back and released one end of his wire. The other mutant freed himself quickly and continued his assault.

Max was oblivious to Elliot's struggle below as he fought off the mutant. With a yoyo in one hand Max tried to land another grapple but his opponent was skilled and something was off. It seemed that the guy was able to predict and dodge all of Max's strikes. Like his eyes were able to perceive every tint movement Max made. It was after another series of blows that Max stumbled back and fell to one knee.

The man began talking angrily in Chinese and Max fought to come up with a defense. The mutant charged and in one moment of desperate instinct Max flipped over him. His hands brought the wire tight and he wrapped it around the man's neck as he flew under him. He landed on the ceiling again and could feel the mutants grip on his wire.

Max dropped his power over the man and felt him fall back towards earth. The wore dug into the man's hands and neck as he struggled but Max held firm with his weight pressed to the ceiling and competing gravity on his side. The mutant coughed and became still and Max released the yoyo and watched the man fall to the ground. He landed in a heap and stirred slightly.

Max drew his attention back to Elliot and saw him planted on a crate looking down at two goons. Max changed gravity on himself and dropped onto the floor. He collected his yoyo and began swinging the end like a bolo.

"Hey a$$hole." He shouted as he let the metal disk fly.

The goons turned as the yoyo wrapped around the leg of the goon on the left. Max let out a surge of power down the wire and made the goon weightless. With a mighty tug he pulled the man off his feet and Max swung the wire and threw him across the tunnel and into a nearby crate. The man collided and Max pulled his yoyo back into his palm looking for Elliot.

Elliott calmly turned his body to face Max and blinked his second set of eyelids at the gravity manipulator, revealing blue eyes beneath the red lids. Blink. Blink. They slid back in place, covering the blue with the usual red. "I thought I called the guys on the left." He said simply. Then, he turned and slammed a fist into the face of the guy who'd jumped up onto the crate to rush his blind side while he was "looking" at Max. The man slid back a step, on top of the crate, and wobbled with uneasy footing.

Elliott shook his hand. And this was why he kicked people almost exclusively. Punching HURT.

The last Triad standing looked from Elliott to Max, and back at Elliott. He held up his hatchet, readying it for a throw. He looked scared. 

"Boo!"

A tongue shot from the palm of Elliott's raised hand, snagging the hatchet. He whipped his arm back, and the hatchet was torn from the goon's grip. He reeled the tongue in, retracted it, and held the hatchet in his right hand.

Somewhere in the scuffle, his hood had slipped down so it was no longer covering his face. The man had seen him now. A flicker of recognition passed by. That wasn't good.

"Well. How do you want this to go down?" Elliott drawled. It wasn't clear if he was talking to Max or the Triad. Then, he added a second line, just for Max. "PS. Thanks for dropping in."

"I thought I called the guys on the left."

Max smiled as Elliot knocked the assailant off the crate with a punch.

"Well you didn't call dibs. Plus it looked cooler." He said with a shrug.

Max watched Elliot disarm the goon and was once again reminded that the green man was formidable. His hood slipped and as Max looked at him standing there he could see how he would be an imposing figure to go up against.


"Well. How do you want this to go down? PS. Thanks for dropping in."

Max watched the triad goon squirm like a mouse in a trap. He looked at the body of the man Elliot had killed. No more violence.

"No problem, someone had to have your back. Let's get out of here," He replied to Elliot walking towards him.

As he approached the triad goon the man took a few steps back to let Max through. He looked terrified. Poor guy.

That hadn't quite been the answer he was looking for. Then again... his mind drifted back to the body somewhere in the room that He had made. Maybe the answer was exactly the answer that he'd been looking for. He just hadn't asked the right question.

He owed Max answers. He owed the Triad guy mercy. They had gunned for him with everything they had, and he was letting this guy who had seen his face run free. It had every possibility of coming back to hurt him. He was going out on a limb for the guy.

Elliott stared at the man for a second, intense look on his face. Then, he shook his head to get it cleared. Turned to Max. "Yeah. This guy isn't going to hurt us now. Let's leave him." His tone made it sound like Max had been the one to suggest the guy would hurt them in the first place. The nerve! He was just a scared guy. Who would be paranoid enough to think that? He started walking towards the exit, the one the goons had used to get in. The one that technically lead to the entrance. He followed Max. As he brushed past the the Triad guy, he glanced towards the man and met his eye. Something passed between them, some understanding. The man spoke Chinese. Elliott wasn't sure if he spoke English. But nonverbally, they were on the same wavelength. The message Elliott sent to the man was 'I'm letting you live. Don't make me regret this.' Then, he was beyond the thug, walking out the door into the hall. He left the hatchet to stand embedded in a wooden crate on the way out.

In the hallway, Elliott broached the subject first. He always was one to pull off the bandaid the moment it needed removing. "I said I'd tell you why," he said, as he walked. His eyes were pointed down the hall ahead.

He was going to put it bluntly. "They're criminals. I know criminals. Criminals hurt innocent people, and they don't care. For business..." Elliott paused, voice wavering. He clenched his right fist, getting control of himself.


"I get sick of seeing innocent people get hurt by nameless people, for the sake of violence and chaos. Treating them like they don't matter, because they never learn a name. I'm starting to realize that maybe, I've got issues... I tried to blow up the Triad building." There. The bandaid was freaking off.

Maybe his narrative wasn't the most cohesive and understandable series of words. For instance, looking at it objectively, you might not get that he was casting himself as a criminal in this dialogue. He got that Ragnarok were chaotic evil, really he did. If he thought he could direct that chaos towards people he might once have done business with, in order to help...? Did that make him good, or bad? Maybe it wasn't that simple.

Max was relieved to hear Elliot agree to let the goon go away peacefully. He knew little of the green man other than the fact that he was capable in a fight. Seeing he had a capacity for mercy was a good thing. He still paused to give the man a deadly stare before they left but Max thought it was more for deterrence than malice.

He followed Elliot into the hallway in silence and allowed the man to state his case. As Elliot explained Max could almost taste the self loathing emanating from the man. He was conflicted and torn, much as Max had been himself until very recently. He spoke of criminals and doing good to help those who could not speak in their own defense. It was a noble goal, one Max shared. Then came the confession of his assault and Max nodded in understanding.

" The world has never been a place of black and white, good an evil. If you do bad things to bad people are you doing good or only expanding on the harm being done? We all live in the balance man." He said.

Lord he was spending too much time with Devon. Max felt like he was slipping on his friends suit jacket even as the words escaped his lips. Therapy was helping Max a lot.

"No judgement here man. I understand the fury of seeing innocent people suffer. It's a part of this messed up world. There are ways to make a difference and still sleep at night though." He continued.

He pulled out one of Haven business card from his pack. Part of working for then was always being ready to promote.

"I work for Haven. It's a support organization to help those people who have problems or obstacles they can't overcome. Finding a purpose and direction for that anger you have, helping people. Just a thought." He said

How he'd found out it was the Triad building, and where he'd gotten the explosives, Max never asked. For that, Elliott was more than grateful. It would have been a pin to explain these things. It would also have left him sharing more than he wanted to share. Only a fool gives away information like that for free.

Even more surprising than the fact Max didn't ask many questions was the fact that he seemed to understand what he, Elliott, was going through. He spoke about grays and balance. That got Elliott musing on the mysteries of good and evil. Did murdering a murderer make one a murderer? Did it leave the same number of killers in the world as before? Or was there justification to that sort of act. Police officers killed, after all. For them, usually, it was self defense. Barring certain cases, of course.

Max wasn't judging him. Talked about making a difference. And then he did something that really confused Elliott. He gave him a business card. Now, see, Elliott had been expecting judgment or ire or even blackmail, but never an offer of help.

He took the card and looked at it. Thoughtful lines creased his brow. If it had been a business pitch, that would have been one thing. But this seemed like some sort of charity organization, and that was a whole other beast. Lately, he'd been trying to give back. Out of a newly hatched conscience, maybe, but does the fact that what one does to help people is done out of selfishness detract from what one does?

Haven, they were called. It sounded vaguely like what someone he knew had wanted for the Sanctuary. A place of support, where a mutant could find help. A place where all were welcome. It was a common idea. When he'd first heard it, he'd been paranoid about people giving something away for nothing. Now, he understood the point.

"Thanks," Elliott said. His voice was rough, because his throat was dry. "I may look into it. Used to be stuff like this made me paranoid." His tone was wry. "I think I'm starting to understand." He stopped and cleared his throat, before he said something embarrassing. "Anyways, we should probably get out of here."

"Guess you can tell me more while we walk? Otherwise, it'll just be awkward silence after fighting ninja." Chinese ninja. He had no idea if there was a special word.

Elliot took the card and looked at it for a moment. Max could almost see the thoughts conflicting inside the man. He was a knot in the center of a massive rope and two giants were pulling on each side. Elliot had attacked the triad out of a sense of justice, had killed the hatchet man in self defense, but there was a darker nature behind those actions. One of the Giants would have to let go, or eventually the rope would be the thing to tear.

Max nodded as Elliot stopped. This was a delicate moment. You didn't push too much. You offer help and then you let the person make a choice.

"Guess you can tell me more while we walk? Otherwise, it'll just be awkward silence after fighting ninja"

Max gave a small laugh, " I do hate the awkward post ninja silence."

They continued to exit the subway and Max gave a small sigh.

"More than a year ago I died. Sounds crazy I know, but it's true. I came back somehow, I don't know how a few months ago. I had nothing; no home, no job, no idea what to do. I met the leader of Haven. He helped me and do you know what he wanted from me in return? What kind of crazy request he made of the man whose life he had literally helped rebuild?"

He let the silence hang for a moment.

"He wanted me to help others. Simple as that. Like the golden rule multiplied by a hundred. They gave me work to do, volunteer work at shelters, visiting people who society didn't want, stuff like that." He said.

He looked up to the darkness above and smiled.

"Yeah it sounds like a bad after school special, don't get me wrong I know there are battles to be fought, because someone has to, but Haven gave me things to do that dare I say made me like myself and people around me. That's the only pitch I can give you, the rest you'll just have to decide for yourself." He said with a shrug.

People die when they're killed. It's kind of a fundamental rule to reality. But there were exceptions. And Max had not said he had been killed, only died. That difference was a major one. You could drown, and be revived, or have heart failure, be dead for moments, but get brought back by someone jumpstarting your heart. Though he didn't say as much, that was how Elliott regarded the statement. Thus, he didn't take it as weird at all. It was firmly grounded in medical science. You could die and come back from some things. Moving on... at least, Elliott tried to move on. The more max said, the more his initial assessment of the statement seemed off.

Max was not talking about momentary death. He was talking about what some in various religions refer to as resurrection. Losing his home and job due to the dreadful reality of having been dead, and thus not there. Alright, Elliott decided. Maybe 'sounds crazy' was a fairer statement than he'd thought. That didn't make Elliott think the man was crazy. Hell, Elliott often told people he was an alien from outer space. He was not so thick that he couldn't see how that might seem strange to say. He nodded slightly in acknowledgement of Max having said what he'd said, and let him talk.

The dramatic silence got all the respect it deserved. Max had earned enough of Elliott's respect that the man didn't interrupt it and crack wise. He'd had a few good ones, too. He kept them to himself, and only said "What?"

He'd suspected the answer Max had given him, even before he'd heard it. That seemed the exact sort of thing ridiculously good-natured people do. They ask you to pay it forward.

Max finished his story, and Elliott considered how best to respond. "Yeah." Elliott said, considering. "I imagine that sort of thing would be incredibly personal. For a while, I've felt directionless. This might give me something..." Elliott trailed off. He didn't need to finish the thought. Like Max had been getting at, it was something that was entirely personal. Trying to explain it might just make it weird.

"Also. Don't worry. I don't think you're crazy." He was shifting the subject, now. Something a bit less personal for him. A wry smile quirked his mouth. "Something happened. Something unexplained. I get it. Maybe a mutant brought you back? Or something else. Something from up there?" He shrugged, and purposefully didn't jab a finger at the sky. "I hope I'm not weirding you out, talking about it. I get weird unexplained things. I'm sure my adopted parents could tell you stories..." He stopped himself. Okay. Now he'd edged towards personal again. Did Max even want to hear about that? "Ahem."

The fact that Elliot believed him spoke volumes for the man. Sure he was a green humanoid with mouths on his hands, but most people regarded the line between life and death as a constant, inflexible force regardless of what other wonders they witnessed in this world. Max had been much the same before his experience.

Elliot seemed like a sort of emotional clam. One moment he would open up and you could see the vague outline of a pearl within, the next he would clamp down again, protecting his treasure.

"I bet," Max said in response to Elliot's joke about his parents,"mutant family's always have an intersting adjustment period when the x gene rears it head."

They made it back to the subway terminal and Max closed the door behind them. His stomach gave an angry rumble as the adrenaline from the fight faded and his body demanded nourishment to replace all the burned calories.

"You wanna grab a bite? I'm feeling Chinese." He said with a light laugh.

X-gene? What was he saying? Ugh. Classic mutant, always assuming peoples' mutation statuses, even when they're not. Always trying to throw them into the bag so they felt less alone in this big blue world. He really was an emotional clam, if that assumption caused him to momentarily close up.

His mouth was a thin line. "Heh." He acknowledged Max had said something, but didn't follow up.

They got out of the tunnels. It was still dark out. They hadn't stayed up the entire night. If there hadn't been light pollution, there would have been stars in the sky.

How to handle the elephant in the non-room? He'd gotten quiet, uncharacteristically so, as they'd walked out of the tunnels, and now he was letting it get all awkward. Which was crap because the guy had basically saved his life.

Elliott opened his mouth to try and break through the silence, but Max surprised him by suggesting food, instead. Chinese? At this hour?

"IHOP is almost Chinese." Elliott commented with a small smile. "And they're always open. If you can find a Chinese place near here open this late, sure, but-- oh. Haha," he laughed sardonically. "That was a joke, wasn't it, because of all the Chinese people we fought? You know we'll want to fight more half an hour from now?"

Yeah. "Lead the way." He gestured with a mild bow and hand-spreading gesture.