Max walked steadily towards Sir Jhonny's tent, his nerves bubbling with both trepidation and anticipation, his plan made sense and he knew that it did, it was just that conversations with his master never went how he wanted them to go which made him nervous.
Upon reaching the tent, he took a deep breath and pushed the flap aside to reveal a cozy interior, a stark contrast to the exterior war-time austerity.
In the heart of the tent, sitting on an oversized cushion and engrossed in what appeared to be an alien crossword puzzle, was Sir Jhonny. He was a thin, wiry man with surprisingly youthful features that belied his age, and an air of mischief that always made Max feel like he was ten years old again.
"Oh, look who decided to drop by. Is that you, boy?" Jhonny said, not even looking up from his puzzle. His voice was teasing, full of that particular blend of condescension and fondness that only Jhonny could master.
