"Cause it's not right!" Edgar's hands fly outward, turning loose of Max's shirt and his own hair, clutching for the right words. "Some rich bastard decides he fuckin owns you and he can just, just take you and do whatever the fuck he pleases, and no one where you come from tells him no he fuckin can't, no one's ever gonna make him pay for it, and that's not fuckin right, Max."

He draws a shaky breath in turn, his voice lowering. "I told him, day we met, how a friend of mine got hurt by a vampire. And you know what he said? He said sorry for your friend, but that's hardly my fault. Like he could never do anything like that. Like I was the nasty suspicious one for even thinking it."