Maxwell was a sputtering, flustered mess as Andrew continued to carry him as Michael led the way through the crowd. Andrew knew that everyone was staring at him, but Andrew didn't care.
He'd held out for a while, but now it was time for Maxwell to get some help.
"Andrew! At the very least, put me down!" Maxwell hissed and Andrew gave Maxwell a slow, raised eyebrow look that had Maxwell flushing.
"No, Mr. Beckett. I believe you are going to get someone to stop us, and if I'm carrying you, you can't do that. Just sit tight and wait till we get somewhere quiet. Then, you can yell at me." Andrew told him and Maxwell harrumphed and sat back in his arms, his own arms crossed. Michael glanced back at them, but held his tongue.
Andrew knew he was being unreasonable, but he honestly couldn't care less. Maxwell came first. No matter what. He also didn't think he was going to rest properly, or even relax if Maxwell didn't get checked.
