"You're the cop killer, right?" Someone sitting next to him asked.

"That obvious, huh?" He scoffed. The person smiled, "TV, you know? Helps soothe an active mind. I'm Max Johnson. Welcome." Max held out his hand. Tord looked over at him, "Listen, I... I don't really feel like talking."

"You know, that's a shame. I don't believe in disposable language either. You know, small talk, little talk, chitchat. Useless. The game. The game's something else, though. This here is our court. I'm ready to throw the ball. Come on." Max pretended to pass a ball to him. Tord rolled his eyes, chuckling a little, "Alright, What are you in here for?" Max chuckled, "I tried to kill my wife."

"Don't you go to jail for that?"

"Yeah, well, I tried, like, 33 times. I never planned on doing it, you know? It was always in the heat of the moment. And she kept threatening to have me put away until finally... she did."

"33 times might make you seem crazy."

"Yeah, or just... Or just plain stupid. Because you'd think by the 22th time, I would've found an alternative method... or maybe a more effective one." A doctor came over, "Morning, gentlemen. How are you doing today?"

Max talked really fast, like he was frightened or something, "For me that is a really difficult question, Dr. White... because the world around me is shrinking, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse... are coming to see me today, and they're not bringing flowers... which just makes it really difficult to get organized." Turning to Tord she asked, "And you, Mr. Larrson?"

"I'm fine."

"So you're okay?" He rolled my eyes and looked over at her, "You tell me, doc. You think there's something wrong with me?" Dr. White sighed, "You're a little underweight."

"Maybe I'm working it off in my dreams. Done with the small talk Miss White?" He looked back towards the T.V. She patted Max on his shoulder as she walked away, "Hey, it's okay."