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Max didn't know what to think of the stranger that walked into his mission one day, young Ms Holcomb following behind him, looking just as uncomfortable as she always did when she had to be even somewhat near to the mission.
The man was wearing some kind of suit Max couldn't recognise at all, the white stained with patches of blood. There was mud up his face, it covered some rather artistically placed makeup, which in turn drew attention away from scars that ran all along his face. Now, the vicar had eyes, he could tell that this stranger was handsome. But he was well over his days of lusting over every man who fitted his fancy. No, he didn't quite know what to make of the man's personality yet. The sabre clipped to his belt and holstered pistol we're a give away to his violent nature- that and you don't get scars like those from anything other than bloody fights and vicious beasts. And yet there was a gentleness to how he spoke. He was genuinely seeking counsel and guidance when he asked about the deserters, and he was polite, and he gave softly encouraging smiles to Parvati. At the time Max knew nothing of the man except he seemed decent enough, so he felt no remorse about sending him out to find the journal.
What was curious was that he returned to give Max his book and the lights were neither off, nor any brighter… meaning he had put finding the book above all else. And that's where it started. Idle curiosity and a need off planet.
"You alright there, Vicar?" A voice spoke up from the doorway to Max's room. The Captain was leaning on the doorframe, a small smile gracing his lips and his armour freshly polished.
"Of course," Max answered with a smile, "just thinking." He'd been thinking back on everything that had happened since boarding the Unreliable. All the fights and revelations and most irritably, spending time with the Captain and the crew.
"Jus' that you was frowning so hard I thought you might sprain somethin'." The Captain chuckled at Max when he huffed in annoyance.
"I was not," Max stood and stretched a little, not remembering how long he'd been sat in that chair, "I was simply trying to remember how I managed to get myself in this situation."
"Wasn't it cause you can't speak French?"
Max glared at the Captain who looked rather proud of himself, "I mean how I managed to become deluded enough to stay on this horrifically jittery ship, with an incompetent crew." The pair of them had small smiles, knowing Max (mostly) didn't mean it.
"Could've been all them drugs we huffed at that random lady's house," the Captain offered with a shrug and waited for Max's small reply of a chuckle before continuing. "I reckon its cause you like us really." The fondness in the Captain's voice was just heart melting and almost made Max want to agree, because he did like them really, in a familial kind of argumentative way. Almost.
"I think the fuck not." Max said as sweetly as possible, although he couldn't quite keep the teasing tone back.
"We're a family, an' you know it."