It starts with a birthday cake.

Carlos is twenty seven, sunburned from a training camp and exhausted from travel, and his mother insists on a proper family dinner in Madrid. He arrives late, apologizing as he drops his bag by the door. Max is with him because they flew in together after a sponsor event, and because Carlos had casually said, “You should come. It's just family.”

“Just family,” Max mutters as he steps into a dining room filled with twenty people speaking Spanish at three different volumes.

Carlos laughs and claps him on the shoulder.

“You'll survive.”

Max survives. More than that, he gets fed until he can barely move.