Taking a few steps back to clear his head, Max soon sat down himself in much-needed relief. Dancing with Olivia was pretty nice, and after a few minutes often felt so very natural it was like Bella herself was back - although in a less vindictive state.<br/><br/>Resting on the cooler floor, he looked over at Olivia for a few seconds in a tired daze, using a hand to slick his hair back as best he could. He was half-listening as Olivia spoke, and truly looked like he didn’t care about what she had to say. But, in his tiredness, his next sentence was half-filtered, not very thought-out, and very much open to interpretation.<br/>“I’m sure you’ll look great, sweetheart...”<br/><br/>Had this been Pyotr’s plan all along? To wear them both out to the point where even aggression was too much of an effort?<br/><br/>But, in a similar fashion, Max had to turn up to their next practice looking somewhat presentable -<em>and impressive!</em>- if they were going to get this as perfect as they could in time for the competition. Oh, they could win, Max was incredibly sure about that. He didn’t have the time to doubt, to wait, to fail again.<br/><br/>He pushed himself to his feet with a grumble, feet briefly tapping on the floor as if to convey his impatience at the world, and had nothing more to say to Olivia as he walked past where she was resting. For a moment, he paused - and did look like he had something he wanted to say - but walked on by.<br/><br/>Maybe it was a good thing he’d chosen to take his leave then, that frustrating moment leaving him more vulnerable than he would have liked.<br/><br/>But no matter, for the<em>real</em>show was soon about to begin!