His hand doesn't move. It stays on Teddy's back as he shifts, a warm and solid presence, until he settles. Maxxie rubs his shoulders idly, then lets his hand drop to his lap.

"Alright," Maxxie answers with a shrug. He's been better, but this isn't about him.

"Everything's fucked, huh?" It's an easy comment, his tone as unremarkable as though he were talking about the weather.