I realize the best route for Jane is her best friend. Family outranks bodyguards, and if Maximoff wants to carry her, protocol says, don’t get in his fucking way. After a short conversation, Tony follows protocol and lets her cousin help. I hate passing my drunk girlfriend over to anyone, but she won’t be afraid in his arms. Maximoff cradles Jane while he climbs into the van, and she hangs onto his shoulders and murmurs, “Thatcher?” “It’s me, Janie,” he whispers.
