[Connor knocks politely on Max’s door in the morning, waiting for her to answer before he comes in.]

[He comes in carefully, a tray balanced in his arms with a full cooked breakfast and a small vase of flowers.] Happy birthday, Max.

{{frome here}}

[Connor comes bounding into the workshop as fast as his stiff leg with let him, his cheek bruised and his lip bleeding] Max! Jason's hurt! I think he's sick! I don't know what to do.