Something needs to be done, Max says fluffing his pillow, throwing the sheet back.
Lots of kids play video games, Max.
Not like this. It’s like…religion to him. It’s creepy.
Yes. He likes it. It’s his ‘thing,’ and he’s good at it.
Good at it? Ha. Who gives a shit if he’s good at it? It’s damaging. He needs friends. Who are real.
Shh. Keep it down. He’ll hear you.
Let him. He needs to hear it.
Have cops deliver him home at 3 AM?
Just think he needs a normal hobby. Like a sport.
He doesn’t even like sports, Max.
No shit. Tell that by lookin at him. One day his heart’s gonna explode.
He’s on a diet. You know that. He’s trying.
What if we stop paying the service for a few months? Or just a month. See what happens?
I’m not going to take away the one thing that makes him happy.
I just…I don’t want him to be a freak. I know how cruel kids are.
He isn’t a freak. He’s our son. Your son.
Don’t think I don’t know that.
Yeahyeah. Well I’m gonna talk to him about it.
Don’t. Leave it.