Friday, November 23rd, 2018- La Colle, Monaco
Princess Grace Hospital Centre (Centre Hospitalier Princesse-Grace, CHPG)
"And just where do you think you're off to?"
Even though he'd been half expecting it, the chiding cadence of the voice from somewhere behind him still gives him a bit of a fright, a quite undignified little yelp of surprise slipping between his lips before he can find a way to smother it.
"I-" the rough beginning of a sheepish grin is already tugging the corners of his mouth up in a haphazard grimace as Max throws a glance over one shoulder, looking back the way he'd come while he struggles to pull an explanation together.
"I'm waiting."
Lurking at the far end of the hall like some ominous harbinger of death– if harbingers of death made a habit of wearing scrubs and a motherly expression, that is– stands Paola, watching and waiting, with her arms folded tightly across her chest.
The nurse had been on his case from the very moment he'd walked in her ward and hadn't let up since. God, she'd made quick, neat work of him too, not bothering with a 'hi' or a 'hello,' she'd had him backed into a corner before he could do a damn thing to stop it.
"I, uh..."
"Quickly."
It had been made abundantly clear to Max that under Paola's purview, there would be no coddling, no niceties, and certainly no frivolity. The woman ran a fucking tight ship, and she made no apologies for it.
He liked to think that if the nurse didn't put him so squarely in mind of his own mother, she would not have succeeded so thoroughly at putting the fear of God in him with little more than a few seconds' worth of sustained eye contact and domineering expression, but Max knew better than that. It's abundantly obvious that Paola is more than capable of holding her own without the weight of Sophie behind her.
"I thought I might go outside? You know, to get some air, stretch my legs a bit-" While it's sloppily done, and his sorry excuse for an explanation is certainly a far cry from being his best work, it'll do for now.
"No, no, no," the nurse tuts as she shakes a reproachful finger at him like he's a particularly naughty and wayward child in dire need of a scolding, "we had a deal, young man, one which you agreed to," she reminds him sternly, "and as such, you are expected to hold up your end of things."
"I just forgot-" it's a bald-faced fucking lie and they both know it but Max has the decency to look ashamed of himself as Paola gestures for him to stop talking while he's still can.
"None of this 'I forgot' business. Turn it around."
"But-"
"Oh, I don't want to hear it. I've heard it all before," she replies with a huff of amusement, waving away all his protestation with a dismissive sweep of a hand, "so, why don't you save it for someone who actually cares-"
"Jesus- don't pull any punches on my account."
"Dear, take my advice and save it for your wife. I imagine she has infinitely more patience for your excuses than I do."
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?," Max snorts, consciously acknowledging that the right thing for him to do would be to inform Paola that virtually every assumption she'd presumed to make about the exact nature of the relationship between the two of you was riddled with staggering inaccuracies but fully aware that he'll be keeping that information to himself, "but you'd be surprised to find out just how little of my shit she takes."
