"I dunno about you, kid, but I'm gettin' real tired." Of the three-ring drama circus that was their life, and kinda just in general. Toxic poisoning, you suck. It was taking a conscious effort to make sure his tail was high enough to keep from damaging the floors even more than he already had. Bulba had apparently met his hug quota, so back to walking toward the incredibly-uncomfortable embrace of a sinkful of water, then the much-more-comfortable embrace of a warm bed.

"I... ain't good at this. We both know it. If I hafta guess, I'm guessin' wrong more often than not." I suppose that's one thing to be grateful to Max about -- it was much easier to admit to his failures with his pride thoroughly squashed. Not easy enough that he could say that while making eye contact, of course; the floor had suddenly become utterly fascinating once more. "I'm a bit too dense to know when to quit, so I'll probably keep guessin' anyway, but... tell me when you need somethin' like that, okay? I won't bite. I'm kinda shit at bein' what you need me to be, but I'm tryin'."