Maxxie grabs a jug of something brightly colored -- guava, he guesses -- and pours them each a glass.
"'Long as you don't go to the wrong parts of Boston," he says, shrugging. He's got no clue what Boston's like, of course, but everywhere's got its rough spots. People are people. But he's not arguing with Dave's point. Anywhere's gotta be better than Lima, just like he thinks London would be better than Bristol.
He sets the glasses down on the table, then sits down himself, pulling one folded leg up onto the chair. "Sure I'm sure," he says with a grin. "Checking me. That's like checking me out, right?"
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"'Long as you don't go to the wrong parts of Boston," he says, shrugging. He's got no clue what Boston's like, of course, but everywhere's got its rough spots. People are people. But he's not arguing with Dave's point. Anywhere's gotta be better than Lima, just like he thinks London would be better than Bristol.
He sets the glasses down on the table, then sits down himself, pulling one folded leg up onto the chair. "Sure I'm sure," he says with a grin. "Checking me. That's like checking me out, right?"