Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I don't own. This is a work of fanfiction for personal amusement, fulfillment and a bit of self-therapy. I make nothing from any of it.

Chapter Thirty-One: Workshop of Hephaestus

September 13th, 2011 6:31 PM

Max was waiting for in the hallway, phone still in her hand. There was no pretense about Max, fuck it, there was no pretense about either of them. They were both pissed. What little Steph had been able to glean from Chloe and pass on to them was that David had crossed some sort of line when Chloe went to get school books from her bedroom at her mother's house and she was now, declaring her intent to never live there again. He learned nothing from last night, Rachel thought as she took in the sight of Max, staring at her with questions in her eyes.

"Are we going to Steph's place or are we going to Joyce's?" Max asked her, voice low, serious. "Tell me now so I know whether to calm the fuck down or to call Joyce and tell her we're coming." There was no bombast in this statement. Max was not letting off steam by saying these things, she was serious. If Rachel said the words and drove the car she knew that the two of them could very easily confront the Madsens in their own home. The thing was that unlike Max, Rachel was not normal. There was no universe where, if they went to the Madsen house and found that David had done anything to hurt Chloe, the house would not burn to the last cinder. The question was serious, so it deserved an answer.

"Steph's," Rachel replied before she pulled her jacket on. The thing hung heavy on her, in that way that sometimes made her want to hunch under it when she first wore it. Her legs were groaning at her for walking anywhere else. After all, last night they had gotten quite a workout and then still did their job for school that day. Let's take a breath, Rachel. Chloe needs you. Distracted as she was, the blonde took a step away from the door to her dorm before she realized she had not shut it and had to turn back to do so. Max did not stop, keeping up her pace and striding toward the door at the end of the hall as if it owed her something. Go get 'em honey.

The only downside to Max taking the lead was that she had to pause and wait at Rachel's car as Rachel eased her sore legs down the stairs into the lot a moment or two later. To her credit, she stayed calm as Rachel took a second to glance toward the few twisted leavings of the trash can she had destroyed the night before. And fuck it very much, she thought, a bit proud of herself, all things told. It was an unfortunate reminder of what the anger currently bubbling around her chest right now could do, but Rachel had Max at her side and their girl was 'safe at home' as Steph put it.

She could calm down if she chose to and so she did. The ride to Steph's (Steph's and Chloe's, she corrected,) was mostly quiet except for two or three of Max's aborted threats toward David Madsen. Calming down or not, Rachel understood Max's clenched fists and jaw. If they walked through the door and found Chloe injured, Max was going to have to give Joyce that warning call, anyway. At one point, just as they were pulling up to the large, red brick house, Rachel shot a glance toward Max. The girl leaned forward, resting her head in her hand, face turned into a grimace and then she rose all at once, shaking slightly. Rachel called her name and turned the car off, earning a slightly confused look and then Max turned toward the door, as if realizing they weren't moving.

They unbuckled and got out of the car without speaking again. Between the two of them, Rachel thought, nothing needed to be said. Their girl was in there and if she was in trouble they were going to handle it. Part of what Rachel loved about the girl beside her is that she was one of the few people Rachel knew could usually be counted on to handle things, even if she thought that Max had been too soft on David Madsen. Whatever Chloe's about to tell us, I think it's going to change Max's stance on that particular douchenozzle. Huh, what the hell, I think 'douchenozzle' does fit better.

They didn't knock. Steph had told them not to bother and so they didn't, but Rachel, concerned perhaps about how cognizant Max was of the moment, let her go in first. Steph called to them from the back of the house and Rachel passed a bathroom on one side, a living room on the other and into the kitchen, where Chloe sat staring down at a glass half full of ice and water. Opposite of her, Steph was sipping at a dark, long necked bottle. Frankly, Rachel was rather surprised Chloe didn't have a beer in her hand. Max seemed to take a cue of some sort from Steph because as they approached the table the girl dug a green stainless steel bottle that Rachel recognized as usually containing less water and more vodka from her bag. Steph gestured for them to sit down, mouth twisting into a frown as she glanced at Chloe.

"Chloe?" Rachel asked as the two of them stopped behind their chairs. At this the bluenette lifted her head and seemed to notice them for the first time. To her credit she tried to smile, it just looked hollow and half-hearted. Both the ring of her old, off-white vneck and the bottom of her neck itself were stained red. When Chloe leaned back in her chair and released the glass of water, Rachel saw yet more blood, which looked to have been poorly washed away, on the girl's fist alongside signs that she had punched someone very hard. She had to defend herself against him today. Chloe's eyes were watery and red, puffy and swollen. That meant tears. Rachel's voice was robbed from her, but Max's not so much.

"What happened?" Max asked, her tone calm, controlled as she eased into the seat closer to Steph than Chloe. A loud, hollow thunk accompanied Max opening the bottle in her hand and taking a long draw. Almost imperceptibly, she winced as she swallowed. Vodka. But she didn't eat lunch.

"So," Chloe said as Rachel filed a firm chewing out away for Max to enjoy later, "I sort of broke David's nose today."

"My hero," Rachel told her, reaching out to grasp Chloe's left hand in her own.

"Um, this is kinda hard to talk about so, can I get it all out?" Chloe asked, and Rachel swallowed. This was not a thing to make jokes about, she realized as Steph nodded supportively. Max responded with utter silence, but took another small drink. I'll carry her out of here if she isn't careful. "Thanks." Chloe's words were short and stilted, as if they were some sort of effort or as if- as if she didn't know what kind of feelings were attached to them. Rachel knew that kind of situation better than anyone. She went to squeeze Chloe's hand but when she did the girl winced. Rachel looked down at the hand. Around the wrist a ring of bruises about right for the size of David's hand was forming. They were going to be dark, too.

"So, I decided to pick up some things from my room and I snuck into the house and went upstairs. He had completely trashed it." Rachel grimaced. "I found some clothes, but there's still so much over there." This was said with some tone of loss or wonder or both. Chloe's right hand passed across the grain of the wood tabletop back and forth. The texture of the wood seemed to be a comfort to her as she found the words to continue. "I got everything I thought my backpack could carry… it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to be worth it, at least?" This last was said as a question, asking to be understood. Rachel only nodded and this time carefully, softly ran her fingers across the back of Chloe's left hand.

"David heard me up there and came up to wait. So when I left he kind of just grabbed me and backed me up against a wall. I thought I could get away but he was drunk and angry. I mean really mad. I didn't even do anything to set him off, I just tried to get away. I guess I should have tried harder or should have been quieter or shouldn't have gone there today, but, I wanted my things." It's not your fault, she wanted to tell the girl. You can't control when David acts like a manchild. "He was going to hurt me so I hurt him." Beside her, Max lowered her left hand and rested it on Rachel's right knee, squeezing as if to brace her, to remind her to be strong.

"I broke his nose, broke the bannister, he almost fell down the stairs. Why did I stop him?"

"Because no matter how much of an ass he is, you're a good person," Steph answered. "You're a good person who didn't want to see someone get seriously hurt."

"Not true," Chloe told her, shaking her head animatedly. It was probably the most life they'd seen out of her yet. "I stood over him, I enjoyed watching him hurt, confused, lost. Part of me still wishes he'd fallen." Rachel shook her head.

"Steph's right. You stopped him, you did the right thing and it's okay to admit that while also admitting that there are worse people who could be chosen to fall down a flight of stairs." This attempt at humor was unsuccessful. Rachel quieted again but her right hand reached sideways and she took Max's bottle off of the table without asking. She took far too large of a swallow. The liquid in it burned like pure fire on its way down her throat, bracing and familiar, almost comforting in how unpleasant it was. Rachel slid the bottle back and waited.

"I said a lot. I told Joyce everything. I mean everything. More than I meant to. Then I was just yelling, just trying to scare him and it was pointless, because he was already scared. The way he looked up at me, it wasn't that he was scared I was going to hurt him. He was scared that I had turned what he thought he was into something else. He was just laying there helpless and stupid and couldn't even get up without a hand or without sliding partway down the stairs." Chloe was shaking her head now and it was all Rachel could do not to reach out to her. "I just told them to fuck off, that I wasn't moving back. I told Joyce about the cameras, about the Prescotts, the files he was keeping, the ones we have on him, but I didn't tell him where we hid the drive." Chloe looked up suddenly, eyes wide as if she needed them to know that. Rachel nodded. She also saw recognition on Steph's face. "I just yelled about the pictures, about him following us around. She looked too stupid and hurt to answer. Like I was hurting her. Like it was my fault." Chloe's free hand clenched into a fist and Rachel heard her speak over tears, as if they weren't allowed anymore.

"I'm sorry," Max told her. "I'm sorry we didn't do anything about David before." For one insane moment she thought about exposing what she had been up to last night even with Steph sitting there on Max's other side, watching quietly. Rachel did turn her way though, and she thought that the artist was not so much watching them as thinking.

"There was nothing any of you could really do, though, is there?" Steph asked. "David did all this shit. You had no choice but to keep trying to stay out of trouble until he threatened one of you." Rachel privately agreed, but found the words hard to parse through. She and Max were going to have to pay David and Joyce a visit tomorrow but it was going to have to be after school and with the coolest heads the two of them could possibly muster. For a second, she craved the burn of the drink Max was passing back and forth between her hands, but Rachel swallowed it and turned back to Chloe, who had fallen silent.

"I just yelled," Chloe finally said. "I yelled until I was done and I left and now I can't go back." It felt like an unfulfilling ending to the story, but it was heartfelt and true. Rachel rather regretted that she did not see David knocked on his ass, herself. He didn't learn last night, he might not learn today. I need to get it together and warn Frank. There was a time for texting your drug dealer and telling him that your girlfriend's stepfather was stalking him. That time was not now, that place not here. At Steph's suggestion the four of them retreated to the living room where the seats were softer and there was a television to fill silence whenever no one had anything to say.

Rachel found Steph's character sketch for her halfling paladin when she sat down in the recliner, leaving the couch to Chloe, Max and Steph herself. The sketch was half done and Rachel wondered if this was what Steph was working on before Chloe got home, perhaps intent on showing it to her as a conversation starter. The day could have gone so much different for them both without David Madsen's rage. Quietly, very quietly, Rachel decided she had to examine the question of whether she thought something she said and did the night before had anything to do with his drunken anger, with him assaulting Chloe.

She would be lying to herself if she gave any answer but yes. Before she and Max (who would be drunk by that point, Rachel guessed) left the house that evening, Rachel would have to pull Chloe aside in private and tell her everything. Her guilt demanded it, if nothing else.

September 14th, 2011 3:47 PM

Frank

Amber I was followed home last night by some kind of fucking "True Detective" You have any thoughts about that?

Me

Isn't your home your RV?

Frank

I was followed to where I usually park my RV smartass

Me

That kind of sounds like a problem

Frank

No shit. What do u know?

Me

I think I know who it is

Frank

You gonna tell me or is it 20 ?s

Me

David Madsen- Chloe's stepfather

Frank

You and your little friends are going dry. Until you hear otherwise lose my fucking number.

"Son of a bitch." Rachel slid her phone back into her pocket, raised a hand to her left temple and rubbed against a growing headache. Max turned a concerned look on her. "Frank cut us off." The brunette looked unimpressed at this declaration. She probably had a fairly full stash rather like Rachel did. So David got his nose broken by Chloe and went out to harass Frank? Jesus, does this guy ever learn?

She had woken up with the best of intentions for the day. She was going to stay calm-calm, cool and collected. She was going to go through her day, spend her morning with Max, go to classes, meet Max, Kate and Steph for lunch and everything was going to be alright by the time she and Max were standing here; or at least, as alright as things could be. As Rachel looked across the porch at Max, listening to the sound of raised voices, shouting from behind the front door, she recollected on how far the plan had gone off point. Rachel passed one of the large, black trash bags ('donated' by Samuel when he turned his back on his cart some time shortly after lunch) to Max. The girl barely met her eyes when she took it: she was trying to hide the combination nerves and anger. Neither of their moods was helped by Joyce Madsen screaming at the top of her lungs inside, clearly upset. Trouble in paradise, I see?

Things went wrong almost from the moment she woke up, receiving a text informing her that last night Chloe had finished the majority of the contents of Max's abandoned bottle of vodka and was currently hungover in bed. Rachel hadn't expected Chloe to come to school yesterday, at all, but the idea of her sitting at home miserable while Steph was out of the house left a sour taste in Rachel's mouth. Adding to that an inability to get Max to have breakfast, ('I'm not hungry,' she had insisted,) and she was in a pisspoor mood before class even started.

It had taken an hour for David's month long vacation announcement to reach her. An hour after that it reached Max and they had been in the hall talking about what it meant when Eliot walked by with Nathan, making a comment offhandedly about the police responding to a domestic dispute at David's house and how Chloe had gone crazy and attacked him. The gist of the story he was telling Nathan seemed to be that David had acted improperly with her and she had responded violently. In essence, a thinly veiled accusation of molestation. Rachel had been stopped from breaking his nose only by Max physically wrapping herself around Rachel's middle. By this time, Chloe was probably wide awake and mostly over her hangover. Steph had likely reached the house and here Rachel stood beside Max trying to figure out how best to go into the Madsen house, clean it of anything that was Chloe's (or at least her clothing) and then get out without Rachel making it all into ash.

Frankly, as David gave a great, bellowing cry of frustration from what might have been the back yard, Rachel turned away from the door and settled down on the porch. Max looked hesitant above her, but the brunette eventually agreed. She watched Max fold first one leg and then the next, lowering herself into a sitting position not more than a foot from Rachel. Unlike Rachel though, she was turned to watch the door. Rachel couldn't blame her, she didn't want to be surprised by anyone coming out of the building, either. She sighed and leaned back on her hands, turning her head to look into Max's eyes. It took the photographer a moment to notice she was doing it.

"What?" Max asked her, quietly. If she was trying to go unheard, Rachel was going to laugh. The two inside the house weren't going to hear either of them unless they really were packing a bomb.

"I just wanted something other to think about than David and about doing something more than breaking his nose." Max nodded, hand shifting to rest atop Rachel's. "I want you to make sure we get a new flash drive made with the new info you found the other night." Again, Max only nodded. She was looking at Rachel with eyes like a camera lens, sharply watching her and taking photographs when an important look crossed her face.

"Are you planning some kind of revenge on David?" Max asked her.

"Night before last I tried to scare him. He's been following all three of us, Steph and Frank. I just wanted to scare him off, then." She wasn't entirely sure why her voice was all calm as she continued. "Last night I thought about giving David what he deserved after we got back to the dorms. You were barely on your feet, Chloe was kind of fucking drained back at Steph's but I was angry still. I could have used that anger, but you know what?" Max tilted her head, those eye-lenses zooming in. "I'm not David. I don't need to stoop that low. Besides," and now Rachel smiled at her. "He's gonna have to live with the fact that his 120 pound step daughter broke his nose and then saved him from falling down the stairs. As far as I'm concerned, unless he keeps up his surveillance state routine, he's gotten what's coming to him." David got his. I'll have to watch him for the next few days, but if he keeps his behavior in check, then I'll let it go. At least he won't be on campus for a month. Rachel rather thought she was going to take a sick day or two to be sure, though.

Relax, right now Chloe is safe, Steph is safe, they're at their house. Max is safe, she's by my side. Can't I just relax? Almost as soon as the thought was finished, the screaming between David and Joyce returned. Oh right, that's why. I'm about to walk into that.

"I think it's time, Max," Rachel said. In her jacket pocket were two more trash bags, which were hopefully, all told, going to be enough to at least bring all of Chloe's clothing, if not the rest of it to her. When the two of them were side by side in front of the door, and only then, Max knocked. It was loud, forceful beneath Max's insistence. It was loud enough, at least, to quiet the sound of shouting. Rachel would have been willing to make a bet on who was going to answer, judging by the sound of heavy boots thunking against the thinly carpeted floor of the hall leading to the front door. Rachel did not hide her smile when the door opened.

In addition to the deserved addition of a bandage on David's nose, he was sporting a pair of shiners the likes of which Rachel had never seen. If there wasn't the potential of the man staring down at her like she was a bug flying off the handle, she would have taken a photo and framed it for her dorm room. Max does have a camera on her. David took a quick look at the two of them, spotting the unfolded trash bag in Max's hands and then turned around and slammed the door in their faces before either of them could speak. He was dressed in a pale blue polo which was visible in the small windows to the left of the door. He looked fairly well put together but he seemed more interested in returning to the kitchen than letting them in. Rachel was rather happy not to have the man in her presence any longer than she had. Max banged harder on the door, going from quiet and concerned to aggressive. Apparently neither of them were particularly emotionally stable. Maybe Joyce should let us in, let us get Chloe's shit and get out of here. And maybe I need to call Frank.

It took a moment for anyone to turn down the hall and by this point Rachel was watching through the window with no hesitation to note. Oh sure, it was bad manners to look into someone's windows, but then, privacy didn't matter much to one of the people living there and, for all the screaming and yelling he was there still, meaning it must not matter much to the other. This other, Joyce Madsen, was the one who Rachel finally saw coming. She exhaled and glanced sideways at Max.

"Joyce is coming," Rachel told her and watched the girl relax to some degree. Perhaps like herself, Max wasn't particularly fond of seeing either of them. Still, Rachel far preferred the blonde approaching them over her husband. When Joyce opened the door she expected Max to greet the woman, as they had always seemed to share some sort of warmth between them, maybe due to her role in Max's life before Rachel met either of the girls. Max remained quiet as Joyce examined them through puffy eyes, her face cross, her jaw set. When she spoke to them it was from a throat hoarse with screaming.

"I figured it would be you two," Joyce muttered. Rachel thought she was attempting to speak softly to them, but was not quite able to get her throat to cooperate. The anger in her features eased, smoothed, but did not go away.

"Yes ma'am," Max replied. It was the single most formal thing Rachel could recall Max saying to Joyce. Ma'am was what Max reserved for impersonal teachers or Rachel's own mother (who knew all about the girls' relationship through a series of events Rachel did not particularly care to think about involving no courtesy in the way of knocking) but never for Joyce. Joyce was 'Joyce' at worst, 'hey you' at best. "We're here to get Chloe's clothes and as much of her other things as we can carry." This was the part of the conversation where they gleaned whether or not Joyce was going to involve the police if Chloe tried to move out. Rachel held her breath. She was especially cognizant of a strong gust of wind that blew from behind her toward Joyce, whose hair shifted pitifully under its assault.

"Will you tell me where Chloe is?' Joyce asked Max, as if she was unsure that she could get the same response from Rachel. She's trying to take advantage of Max. She knows Max loves her. Rachel wanted to speak up, to call Joyce out on this low move, but the minute she opened her mouth, Max pressed a hand to her shoulder, comfortingly. Making sure to hold Joyce's gaze, Max shook her head slowly like a disappointed parent. The waitress deflated slightly.

"That's kind of down to Chloe at this point," Max insisted. "That's her choice. Y-" the brunette's mouth slammed shut and Rachel watched her swallow some comment. It was odd to see Max this conflicted about her anger. Max was usually a master of righteous fury. Yesterday she had been chomping at the bits to come to the house and scream herself raw at Joyce and her bumbling husband. Today Max walked like a man through a minefield. Every step measured and taken so delicately it could be her last. Rachel just wanted self control enough not to set that field aflame.

"Please, Max. Lord knows I love Chloe. I have tried and tried. She has made it clear that that wasn't enough and after what I've seen," Joyce sighed and Rachel again got the self-pitying vibe from her, the one that Chloe sometimes pointed out as making it impossible to speak to her about anything she did wrong. "I can't say she's wrong. Just, I want to know if my little girl's alright." I wonder how she'd feel to know Chloe calls her by name? "I want what's best for her."

"I know," Max said, voice lowering. The photographer looked away from Joyce with watering eyes. Rachel broke in despite herself.

"I-I don't know," she added, causing Joyce to turn her head around quickly. "I know you love her, or you say you do and sometimes you act like it, but you can't use our past on me like you can on Max." The woman began to look mildly affronted but Rachel didn't want to give her time to argue that point. She knew manipulation, whether conscious or not, Joyce was being manipulative and with everything else going on in Max's life, Rachel wasn't about to let her sink her claws into the girl. "I actually think you're a good person Joyce, but you've learned to use a person's love for you like a sword and a shield. I don't have the long past with you that Max does to weigh against what I saw happening to Chloe last night when she talked about yesterday. So when I look at you I see a relatively well intentioned person who forgot to put her family first, who keeps shifting the blame everywhere but at herself." A lot like my own mother. "I see someone who's used to emotional appeals making them untouchable. Right now the only emotions I have for you are shitty, because Chloe doesn't fucking cry but she did last night."

"I love my daughter," Joyce repeated, emphatically. Rachel believed her. She just wasn't sure she believed Joyce loved her enough to do the right thing. Not right now.

"Then let us go upstairs, get what she needs and then we'll get out of your way." As Max spoke, Rachel realized that for the first time since they arrived David was completely silent. Whatever he was doing, she suspected it involved silently fuming about their presence. Joyce Madsen stepped aside, crossing her arms. It seemed to be about all that Rachel and Max were going to get. Rachel wondered to herself why she was dressed for work when it was clear she had not gone into the diner that day, but that was a mystery she was not inclined to pursue. "Our loyalty is to Chloe," Max added, seeming to find her voice properly. "Right now that means not telling anyone where she is, not cutting her off from the one place she feels entirely safe." As if David doesn't already know, anyway.

Chloe's room was as she had described the night before, clothing, papers and various odds and ends spread about the room. Max got on clothing and Rachel took to gathering books, papers and notebooks, trying her best to keep everything nice and neat. She was surprised by the sheer amount of sketchbooks and notebooks Chloe had. She was even more surprised by the fact that most of those notebooks were actually full of text. Rachel didn't feel like there was time to stop and read anything to get an idea of what she had for various reasons (including the fight resuming downstairs in the kitchen) but she did wonder how she had never noticed Chloe writing all the time. She would have had to to fill this much paper.

Rachel wasn't sure who had it worse. Max had infinitely more volume and was taking time and care to properly fold the majority of the clothing but it was all grouped into one of two areas. The texts and sketchbooks on the other hand had been strewn everywhere. In one case, Rachel retrieved a page, half crumpled from the windowsill. When her bag was nearly full, she pulled out the remaining one and declared it would have to be a 'hybrid.' Max worked in silence so Rachel matched it. It wasn't comfortable silence: nothing about this was comfortable.

The truth was that Rachel suspected that at any moment David might come up the stairs raging at them. If he was capable of actually attacking Chloe, he was capable of anything as far as she was concerned. The potential damage that she would end up doing if she lost her cool, well, Rachel really didn't like to think about it. Despite threats to the contrary that night in the Blackwell parking lot, Rachel didn't particularly relish the idea of hurting anyone but the concept of self-defense did not escape her as a worthy ideal. If it looked like he was going to lay his hands on her or Max, he was going to get burned.

All told the three bags were probably full to the brim even before Rachel retrieved Chloe's favorite pillow. That didn't stop Max from pausing, turning around the room once and then striding to the closet confidently. Rachel tied the two bulkiest and heaviest of the bags off. It was better that they hold until they reached Steph and Chloe's house and need to be ripped open to get at what was inside than that there was a spill out on the lawn or worse, in the car on the way there. Rachel watched as Max knelt on the edge of the closet, reaching for something along the floor.

"Don't judge," Max advised her, half smiling as she rose to a standing position. "But this might be the kind of thing Chloe needs." Mr. Sharkie, who Rachel had never paid much attention to, was stuffed under Max's arm. In her left hand, though, was an old collapsible spyglass. It looked very cheaply made, she wasn't sure it had much value or use at all. Max noticed her looking at it and turned slightly red. "Pirate's treasure map," she explained. Rachel raised an eyebrow, unable to resist smiling as Max's complexion only darkened. "Whatever," Max exclaimed, apparently catching on to Rachel's attempt to tease her.

They hauled the bags downstairs without incident. So raucous was the fight raging in the kitchen that neither of them seem to notice either of the girls abscond with their freshly pillaged booty. Rachel waited until the bags were packed into the back seat and she was behind the wheel of her car to breathe a sigh of relief. It felt good to actually be doing something helpful, something that had minimum consequences for everyone involved. Rachel started the car and rested her right hand on the gear shift. She was taking last look at the house when she felt Max's hand close over hers.

"Chloe's gonna be okay, you know that."

"I know that," Rachel promised the brunette, giving her the widest smile she could muster. "She's got us, and frankly, we're pretty badass."

"Pretty badass," Max echoed, releasing her hand so she could shift into reverse. "Pretty damned badass."

Hopefully this will cheer Chloe up enough that she'll come back to school tomorrow and get back into the swing of things. No David there, which I'm guessing Steph's already told her by now. Rachel didn't spare much thought for David's sudden 'vacation.' If there was any justice in the world he was just scared and deciding to lay low. Unfortunately, there's really not. Which means David is going to be bitter, angry and probably as big an ass as ever. He's not going to leave Frank alone. He needs to be morally superior and he just got fucking embarrassed. He's not going to stop until someone gets seriously hurt.

As soon as they got where they were going, Rachel texted Hayden to let him know she'd be by for her 'gear.'