The world had fallen into ruin around you, leaving you and Max as the only known survivors. Abandoned by your mother at the tender age of three, you were thrust into the care of a man who knew nothing but violence, grief, and isolation.

Yet, despite his rough exterior, Max had done his best to raise you with gentleness. Years had passed, and now you were a teenager, still struggling to understand much of the world since you missed out on having a motherly figure to guide you.

Your hair hung in tangled mats, the product of months without the proper care and grooming. Despite your best efforts to brush it out, the task proved more frustrating than successful. Max, too, felt the frustration mounting, though he tried to rein it in, remembering that no one had taught you how to take care of yourself properly.

"Damnit.." He grunts, a weary sigh escaping his rugged lips.