Max looks on from a dark corner of this room. The set-up isn't familiar except for all the ways it is. There's a dark sense of foreboding he can't name, but when that servant comes with the wine he knows with visceral certainty that the hairs on the back of his neck aren't standing at full attention for no reason. Right now, he barely dares to let himself breathe. Any wrong move could spell disaster... and not just for him. So he watches, and wills the frantic beating of his heart to slow--unsuccessfully.