"Road rage! Roid rage! Roid rage!" he jeered, mocking the jock  "Hey, Brad, did you know steroids will leave you unable to perform in the bedroom? Is that why you're so angry all the time? Leave the kid alone." Max would call out, his juggling act being entirely unaffected, as he maintained his composure; muscle memory and a steady rhythm allowing him to pay more attention to the about-to-be-a-fight than what he was doing with no difficulty.<br/><br/>"And you leave Red alone. After all, it's only<em>after</em>you're famous that you can get away with beating women. And you? You're not famous at all. Going to jail for assault and battery would be an amazing way to start your football career, wouldn't it?" The theater geek poured on the threats, knowing full well that he could outmaneuver the bully if he needed to.<br/><br/>"As for why I'm here, I got a note in my locker, and I was half-expecting you and your boyfriends to be here, Brad, looking to get a few last punches in. Didn't realize you were actually able to work solo."OH god, is Max insane? He's still pouring on the fuel. Maybe he wanted Brad to hit him, just so Max could fuck over his life by pressing charges.<br/><br/>