79. Starvation

Max simply couldn't take it anymore. He'd been working with Carmella for almost two years now, and had known her even longer than that. Their jobs and their stations had thrown them together time and again, time and again. He had grown accustomed of her at first, then in need of her. When she wasn't there he would pose questions to the empty air on his left shoulder, where they would hang with no reply. His missions alone, didn't even compare with those they did together. They weren't as clean, as efficient, as successful. He'd become a half of a team, and now he needed her to fill in the other parts.

Thus had been his mentality for many days, many months, when it came to the person of Carmella De Rosencourte. These feelings, however, had come especially to a head recently because Carmella had taken a three week stint in Africa. He hadn't been allowed to go because it wasn't an operation, it was official business for the public face of the De Rosencourte family, establishing clinics for children in some of the most desperately stricken parts of Africa. Damn kids.

"Damn kids." Max muttered to himself, swishing his drink around in his glass.

"Oh, Maxie. Honestly now?" Doyle replied from across the table, from which he surveyed Max with an aghast expression. "Have you really sunk so low that you are begrudging impoverished children now?" He asked, hoping that Max wasn't serious in his complaints.

"Oh hell yes I am." He responded, making eye contact with his best friend and confidant. "I'm a little kid! Help me! Help me!" he mocked, setting down his glass so that he could flail his arms in an unkind representation of childhood. "And I think it was bullshit that I couldn't go. I'm great with kids."

Doyle sighed and rubbed the crease between his brows, before responding. "First of all. You hate Africa. It's hot, and no one there likes you." Ignoring a rummbling from Max that it's not his fault that he'd assassinated so many leaders on that continent, Doyle went on. "And you hate kids. This is demonstrated by the fact that you just made fun of kids dying of preventable diseases." Doyle said, barely able to keep the laugh off his face, he knew what was really on the man's mind after all. "And finally, there are enough rumors flying around about the alliance between our families without you going down there and representing them." He finished, leaning forward to try and engage his friend.

Max wouldn't hear anything of this logic. "I like Seamus!" Was his only defense, and before he could build anything else his cell phone rang. Max froze, that ring tone, Bitch by Meredith Brooks.... that was Carmella. That was Carmella's personal line. There was no cell phone service where she had been in Africa. It was a week early, but ... could she be back already? Max waited a few more beats before answering the phone with a composed, "'Sup?" While his face betrayed his childlike joy.

"Whatever bastard. I'm going to be in Boston in an hour. My room better be the same as how I left it." She said, happy to hear the voice of the biggest idiot packing heat in the world.

"No. I booby trapped it .... again." He replied honestly, breaking out into laughter at the end of his statement.

"Erg. God, what are you, five?" She asked, almost growling into the phone, "I'll see you in a bit." She added, clicking the phone shut.

Doyle simple observed the look of wonder and elation on his bosses face, before he thanked his heavenly Father that the woman had finally returned. Max had been starving for her, and his starvation had finally come to an end.

"Shit. I just thought of something else good to add to the traps in Carmella's room. What do you think of a box of roaches in her tub?" Max asked, sprinting off before Doyle could respond.