My Feral

11

At the shoe/boot store, which Max tends to frequent more than he would like because of how many shoes he goes through being on his feet all day, the old man behind the counter is nice enough to not point out how exhausted and bedraggled Max looks.

After wandering up and down the aisles of footwear, holding Nux's boot up to the ones on display and taking a few out of boxes to compare and finding none, Max resignedly limps up to the counter. The old man smiles at him, a genuine smile, partially hidden by his salt and pepper mustache. He has nice eyes.

Max blinks, and cocks his head to the side, looking at the man questioningly.

"You looking for a friend for your boot?" the old man repeats, and Max nods, holding out the scuffed up boot.

Taking the proffered boot, the man looks it over, running skilled and calloused fingers over the cracked leather and duct tape, thick lines of dental floss stitching.

"Looks like you're gonna need a whole new pair, what with the state that this one's in," he says, and Max can only bring himself to nod because while he knows the old man is right, his eyesight is going blurry and he just wants to be home.

"Give me a minute to go root around in the back. I'm certain I have a pair like this one," he says, walking into the back, then saying over his shoulder, "go ahead and sit down, boy. Looks like you need to take a load off."

Nodding in agreement, Max sinks into the folding chair by the desk.

Stretching, he groans at the pops and cracks that emit from his knee, rubbing the offending appendage grumpily.

Then, just as Max is starting to nod off, the store clerk comes back and sets a shoebox on top of the counter. The thunk of box meeting wood has Max jumping to his feet and whirling to meet the man, heartbeat picking up before he remembers where he is.

Rubbing his eyes, he takes the lid off of the box and feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth because the boots -a proper pair- look just like Nux's remaining boot.

Nodding his thanks, he asks sheepishly, "could you....ah, wrap them? They're a gift....for a friend."

Smiling back at him knowingly, the man asks, "have a particular paper in mind?"

"Got any with cars on it?" And damn it all, Max can feel his cheeks heating up when he asks that.

Pulling out a ribbon matching the blue of Nux's eyes, the man wraps the box in a flourish and presents it to him across the counter. Tucking it under his arm, Max pays and exits the store, feeling a little bit lighter than he had upon first entering the store.