The man– Charles, Max assumes– sounds French. He loves that. He should be used to a French accent, he was forced to converse with Pierre often enough, but it sounds different coming from Charles. More melodic. Almost similar to someone he used to know once.
“And that made me think,” Charles says, voice bellowing from Max’s speakers. “That it was stupid that we didn't have carrots before. Like, come on, it's a farming game.”
Max has no fucking idea what the hell he is on about.
or: Max is lonely and finds Charles streaming on Twitch.
max giggling twirling his hair kicking his feet doubling over laughing crying the second daniel opens his mouth is so. is the dick that good. is it worth this level of humiliation max. this man is so far beyond being lost in the sauce he's drowning in the sauce hes fucking dead in the fucking sauce. pick urself off of the floor max for the love of god