Yeah, you look like you really don’t give a shit, Miramax. [ It’s said with as much sarcasm as she can muster at the moment. Weaker than normal, but clear she doesn’t buy it for a second. ]

No one should have to face this kind of shit. It’s cruel that you get these small glimpses of life outside of… wherever you came from and then it just gets ripped away from you like that. You might be a little rough around the edges, but I’d be a fucking hypocrite if I said that meant you deserved to die. I -

[ A breath. ]

I care because even if you’re some reflection of Max’s personality or a fragment of her stupidly broken mind or whatever else, you’re still a Max, your own Max, and that means we’re friends and you’re stuck with it. I care because if you weren’t sick as fuck, I’d take you up on those offers to go party and tear up the town, because it sounds like fun, and if things had been different, I probably would have thought you were cool as shit from the start without all the bullshit drama in between.

[ She reaches out, scooting closer to the bed so she can cup Max’s cheek in her hand carefully. ]

I care because … you’re a person. And people are worth caring about.