Furiosa has barely woken when she is accosted by the Dag, slightly smug grin on her face.
"He's back", she tells her simply.
Furiosa doesn't know whether or not she is surprised by this, doesn't know whether or not she expected him to come back. Hope and expectation are two different things after all.
She prepares for the day as quickly as she can, but it is not fast enough. She is just cinching the harness for her prosthesis, which she has rebuilt to be better than it was previously, when she hears a quiet, dry cough in her doorway. He looks exactly the same, she thinks, despite the months that have rolled by since they've last seen each other. Perhaps his face is slightly more lined with worry, his eyes years older than they should be, but the same could probably be said for her as well.
It doesn't take her long to cross over to him. She greets him in the way that is so familiar to her, forgetting that it is not so for him. Her hand reaches up to grasp the back of his neck and she stretches up to press her forehead against his.
He stiffens for a moment, unused to the intimate contact. Seconds later he relaxes into it, his own hand curling around the back of her neck, head bending so she can stand flat-footed again. They stand like that for much longer than is customary, taking comfort in the presence of the other.
"There are rumors about you", Furiosa says, pulling away and striding purposefully around her room, setting things into their proper places.
Max tracks her with his eyes, shrugging one shoulder. He knows he has a reputation. It doesn't mean he cares.
"They say you never return to a place once you've been there", she says slyly, watching him from the corner of her eye.
The ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he relaxes against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Can't believe everything you hear."
Furiosa turns to him, mirroring his own pose, smirking. "No", she says, "I suppose you can't."