Ngh.( it's an inelegant, unhappy noise of acknowledgement at — well, everything adrian's just said, and marc finds himself faintly irritated by the lack of anything in the room to use as a distraction. to focus on.
he slides off the table and turns his back to adrian, seemingly paying zero attention to adrian's words. the still-open book in front of adrian's chair gets pulled towards marc, and he takes a (probably rude, probably inconsiderate, but he won't acknowledge that) moment to skim the first page. it's nothing particularly comprehensible to him, but it at least buys some time and gives some credence to his silence.
marc may have said they needed to talk, but that doesn't mean he's going to — is capable of — making the conversation easy. )
Whisky, ( he remarks bluntly, with no immediate indication as to whether he's referring to himself or steven. ) The older, the better. ( a beat, a sidelong glance; a turn of a page. (hope you weren't feeling too precious about what you were reading, adrian.) marc's gaze flits towards the coffee machine, then back to adrian. as an additional explanation— ) The more expensive, the better.
( steven, then. marc has never been fussy, has never been particular — when he'd been younger, it'd been a case of whatever was available was good enough, and it'd mostly stayed that way, though if and when given the choice, he'd opt for vodka. cold and strong, the former an offset to a lot of time spent in hot countries, the latter an offset to — you know, sobriety.
it'd taken him a long time to admit the preference was partially due to it being what his parents had drank. in his teens and in his twenties, even approaching his thirties — all the way through to his father's death — he'd avoided acknowledging any degree of similarity between himself and elias, any want of similarity.
a wave of a hand, then, and— ) You didn't make the conversation enjoyable.
( is that marc's opinion or is that steven's? who knows, possibly not even marc give the way his expression tightens almost immediately after he's spoken. he exhales a breath through his nose and his features flatten as he holds up a hand, fingers curled but for the index and middle. )
Shared residence.( accompanied by finger quotes and a pointed, assessing stare, uttered in much the same way anyone else might go for an exasperated god—.
(that's a 'yes', then.) (he's aware, too, that adrian is asking for marc's explanation in a roundabout way, but marc's not sure how and where to start.) )
Edited (soz I forgot the term adrian actually used) 2025-10-13 22:40 (UTC)
[ Adrian feels as if he has grown oddly accustomed to Marc's presence; the long silences and fractured sentences don't bother him overly much. He and Steven can agree on one thing: Marc is honest, even down to his discomfort, even if he doesn't give voice to it.
He pushes to his feet, then settles again on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed, watching Marc fuss with his textbook. For a while, the only sound is the steady drip of the coffee maker and the turning of pages.
His mouth twitches at the mention of whiskey, a touch of haughty distaste coming into his expression. Even having spent so many years on his own, Adrian couldn't possibly escape his upbringing entirely, and the knowledge that something being more expensive doesn't necessarily make it better.
Obviously, he will have to correct this misapprehension by finding Marc (Steven) some truly good whiskey. He can manage it, probably. If he's careful.
You didn't make the conversation enjoyable.
He shrugs, expression falling into neutrality again, but there's an undercurrent to it. He's annoyed at Marc. ]
Now that you're here, I am sorry that I threatened him... I thought I was very restrained about it, all things considered. [ Adrian does have the grace to grimace at his own words, hearing how they sound out loud. ] At the time, I had no idea what had happened to you. You must understand what it's like to run into a stranger in a coffee shop, wearing your skin like a new suit. So yes, I was a bit unpleasant.
[ Adrian waves a hand, relenting. ] And yes, I know this isn't his fault.
[ He gets up, walks over to where his textbook is. It's a detailed guide to parasitic humanoids with startlingly detailed diagrams. Catching up on medical texts isn't exactly easy when he only has access to what happens to be available at the thrift store.
He flips the pages back, trying to find the one that he was on before Marc skipped past it. It does give him something to do with his hands. ]
Before I gained my magical abilities, I was a doctor. Unfortunately, my medical knowledge is currently both woefully outdated and far too narrow in scope... So, I have been working on catching up. I haven't been trying to diagnose you, if that's what you're wondering about. Steven seemed convinced that you should be the one to explain, so I am keen to respect that. [ He slides an old receipt into place like a bookmark and closes the textbook. ]
You don't have to give me all of the details, Marc. But it would put my mind at ease if I knew what was ordinary for you, and when to be concerned. It would also save me a fortune in apology whiskey for Steven... and any other guests.
( there's something about the visceral nature of now that you're here sat alongside wearing your skin like a new suit that grinds at marc, that irritates and sits under his skin in a way he wouldn't be able to articulate, and he turns his head to look at adrian, slow and steady and incredulous. he doesn't say anything, just allows adrian to continue, allows him to make claims about being restrained and only being slightly unpleasant.
it's a silent fuck you, of the sort that he's aware is unreasonable, the kind that andrea tolerates and then pokes and prods at until he finally, eventually elaborates. but adrian isn't andrea, and marc leans forward into adrian's space, like he's trying to find something in adrian, only seeming to change his mind about what he's doing-thinking-might do when adrian waves his hand.
"I know—", adrian says, and the noise marc makes suggests that he doesn't believe that in the slightest. (even if it's true. none of it is steven's fault.) (it's technically marc's fault—.)
he takes a step back as adrian reclaims the textbook, the corners of his mouth curving unhappily, though whether that's more to do with adrian's words or his actions remain unclear. quite deliberately, he pulls out a chair and sits at an angle, resting one arm across the back of the chair and drawing the opposite leg up, resting his ankle against his knee. )
I wasn't wondering, Adrian. ( cool and calm. (none of the above.) one-by-one, marc pulls at the fingers of first one glove, then the other, before removing them entirely and placing them down on the table. ) We're running a couple decades behind Google.
( a beat; a drum of fingers against the table. (is the coffee done yet? please, lower your standards for coffee, adrian. instant is completely fine.)
then— )
You know it's relative? ( a flick of his hand in lieu of finger quotes again. ) "Restraint." (ha. ) I'd put money on us having different definitions of the term.
( which is to say— )
Steven's not the man you should be worried about dealing with. But he's not a guest.
( —that is truly the worst way of putting it, adrian. )
And he's not—. ( he doesn't want to replace me? that may be true, but it's not something marc always belives. he doesn't finish the sentence. ) We have a history. Without him, my life would be very different.
[ Adrian, for his part, is no less irritated with Marc in his space. He's aware of Marc's disposition towards violence, even if it hasn't really been directed at him. It's just that he's not particularly concerned that it will be turned on him. (Even if he's wrong, the concern for himself always comes too late. The knife against his throat isn't frightful until it's already buried too deep.)
I wasn't wondering, Adrian.
Adrian huffs. He has no idea what Google is, but he's not going to ask now. The last thing he needs is to let Marc have some excuse to go on a tangent, or to be smug.
He walks away while Marc makes a show of being impatient. Adrian is busy retrieving mugs from his traveling pack and doing breathing exercises. If they both get snippy, he's not going to get anywhere. ] ...Fair enough. I threatened your friend. You're within your rights to retaliate. If we're done with that, however...
[ He pulls out two mugs; a plain white one with a chip in rim, and a novelty monstrosity.
When he pours coffee into them, he sets the bird mug on the table beside Marc. (It's only right, since he's a guest, that he doesn't get a broken mug.) Adrian takes the empty chair and starts opening sugar packets to pour into his own coffee. ]
He doesn't seem like a bad person. He said he'd known you his whole life. Have you always — and if you want me to call it something else, you will have to tell me what that is — have you always shared a body?
(if we're done with that, adrian says, and it somehow manages to both condescend and be far better than anything else adrian has said to this point. he's right. he's right and marc should apologise. the words sit unspoken, uncomfortable against the back of his teeth as adrian sets down a mug of coffee in front of him. his attention settles on the mug and his eyes narrow, sliding towards the other coffee adrian is in the process of assaulting with sugar.
and he doesn't say anything. he thinks of steven asking him what he was afraid of and his own defensive, angry response. I'm not afraid of anything. (I am afraid.) he rearranges himself, turning fully towards the table (and adrian), drops his leg to the ground and sits, for once, wholly ordinary. no posturing. no hiding behind body language. as he does so, he realises he's tired — not physically, no, because whatever adrian did had dealt with that, but in every other sense.
he wishes he had a mask. it wouldn't make the conversation easier, wouldn't take it further away from resignation and reluctance, but at least adrian wouldn't be able to see his face.
"his whole life." (ha, funny.) "shared a body." better, and marc murmurs a vague noise of assent as he turns his coffee mug, making sure that the handle — such that there is one — is on the right, before— )
I was a kid. ( it's still curt, lacking in much of anything that can be described as softness, but there are fewer edges. the lingering frustration is more inward than it is anything directed towards adrian.
his mouth twists, nose scrunching, and he continues to avoid looking at adrian. ) Something happened— ( he waves a hand, tight and restrained, a kind of non-verbal whatever that indicates that whatever the something was, he's not elaborating. ) Steven ( and jake, he doesn't say, ) was how my mind dealt with that.
( it hangs a little awkwardly, like marc thinks he should be adding something else, like he doesn't think that's going to be enough of an answer for adrian, but it's where he leaves it, tension and reluctance evident in the hunch of his shoulders, the tight knit of his brow. )
[ Adrian feels a little bad for his impatience even before Marc starts speaking again. All of that (admittedly mutual) huffing, only for him to turn around and look so beaten down it makes Adrian's heart ache a bit. Maybe he's projecting, or reading too much into it, but he has the grace to pretend that he's busy with his coffee to give Marc a moment to gather himself.
This is hard for him, whatever the explanation is. That much is obvious.
He doesn't expect Marc to open with that particular statement. Short as it is, it speaks volumes. Adrian does look up at him, but he keeps his expression neutral. He knows how Marc gets with what he perceives to be pity.
Instead, Adrian's brow furrows. He's never heard of anything like this before. ] So Steven... is a part of your mind?
[ A shard of his soul, perhaps? That is something he has context for, right down to the something happening to cause it. Though it's still only barely comparable, it does make a kind of sense. Adrian nods slowly. ] Did he make an appearance because of the meteors, then? Or do you trade places as you both see fit?
(ugh, follow up questions are his least favourite. he'd invited them from reese, from soldier, but neither of them had followed up. they'd let his explanation remain what it was — although, marc's aware, they had more of a baseline for understanding than adrian does. andrea has asked questions, but that's her job and, as marc had taken far too long to realise, she'd been more concerned by and with marc than she ever had been with steven and jake.
this isn't, then, something he has much familiarity with navigating. not in recent years, anyway. there'd been hospitalisations, there'd been doctors, but they all knew — roughly — what and who they were dealing with. here, he has to provide context and whatever else. he almost misses the days of pretending steven and jake were just disgusies, an easy explanation full of don't worry about it, it's under control. now, he doesn't think marlene had ever really bought it, but it'd been an easy way to dance around the real problem for a while.
he meets adrian's gaze, his coffee entirely untouched. he half considers not answering, of forcing the conversation elsewhere before admitting— ) Steven has his uses. I haven't always recognised that.
[ Adrian can't say that he truly expected a direct answer, but he does sometimes hope for one in vain. He doesn't pretend that he understands the response, but he take a swallow of his coffee while he puzzles through it.
Adrian finds them both a bit opaque in different ways, but Steven had so obviously to cared for Marc, and even this much seems difficult for Marc to admit. Uses, indeed. ]
You look after each other, I suppose? In your own ways. [ He can't say that he expects much of an answer to that statement. ] I feel as if I should tell you what I told him.
[ Adrian sets his mug down and holds out a gloved hand. ] Your hand, please.
( the problem, most of the time, is that marc generally doesn't consider himself to be indirect. he thinks he's answering the question, responding to what's being asked of him in the way that suits best. this, sure, is different. there aren't many people that'd be able to squeeze 'steven steps in to make sure I don't do something I regret, jake steps in when I can't deal emotionally' out of marc. the answer adrian gets, then, is the closest marc will willingly get to elucidating.
and, if pressed, he'd argue that alongside everything else, it's hardly very fucking opaque. uses—!
though much like the time andrea had asked marc what steven and jake thought of being dragged into marc's perpetual war as moon knight and marc being faced, abruptly, with the knowledge that he's never once asked their opinions, never once considered their feelings, adrian asking — commenting, really — that steven and marc must look after each other has marc realising that—
no.
not really.
what does he do for steven except cause problems? lose their money. alienate his employees. torch grantcorp's reputation. get them investigated by the IRS.
the beat of silence is telling, and marc keeps his face still, expression unchanged as he glances towards adrian's hand, the edges of unwanted self-consciousness softened by questioning.
(he didn't ask about their conversation.)
(god.) (he should have stayed at home.) )
—Is this going to be some kind of telepathy thing? ( abrupt and incredulous and seemingly entirely in spite of himself. )
[ Adrian blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting that question. ]
I don't have any telepathic abilities... Do you? [ Is that why he's asking? More likely, Adrian assumes, he's just familiar with those who do have such abilities. (Frankly, if he did have a Telepathy spell, that would make much of this conversation easier. As things stand, he feels as if he's often trying to catch up with Marc's train of thought.)
He doesn't move at all, elbow restring against the table, hand open and palm-up. ]
I thought it would be better received if you knew where I planned to cast. I was going to remove the many stains from your glove and sleeve... If you have no objections?
[ Many is an exaggeration, but there is blood and dirt.
Considering his work at the clinic and the long sleeves that he always wears, Adrian should have long since acquired similar stains, but his own white shirt is pristine. Magic is useful like that. ]
( sorry, he's just struggling to follow how being told about steven and adrian's conversation has any relation to the marks on his clothes.
does he object? not really, not in and of himself — don't ask him about how much he spends on dry cleaning at home, or how much of his free time he dedicates to doing laundry here. it's a lot (unsurprisingly), but it's the price to be paid for the life he lives.
regardless— it's a pain in the ass to have to clean so consistently, so frequently. despite misgivings, he grunts a noise of — acknowledgement? agreement? not disagreement — before, ) I thought you were telling me about your conversation.
( doesn't mean he's not going to act at least a little disgruntled about the entire thing. he has an image to maintain, adrian. )
I don't have any abilities. ( pointed. ) Doesn't make my head any more fun for anyone to experience. ( on the off-chance that adrian did have telepathic abilities. he cares, you know. )
[ Adrian isn't quite petty enough to find satisfaction in causing the confusion for a change, but it's a near thing. He does give Marc a little grin when he says: ] I'm trying to be dramatic. I thought you would appreciate that.
[ He doubts that Marc thinks he's being dramatic almost as much as he doubts that Marc will appreciate his attempt at it, but sometimes Marc is wrong.
He sighs and lowers his hand, flexing his fingers. ]
I pray for your cleansing grace.
[ He makes a sweeping motion with his hand, and the stains vanish, from the glove to about halfway up Marc's arm, leaving the suit the same pristine white that it must have been the day it was made. Adrian props his cheek against his fist and reaches for his coffee mug again. ]
As I told Steven, I do wish that you would more freely ask for help — and not because I doubt your capabilities, but because this sort of thing is trivial for me. I can do the whole suit in a few seconds if you fold it up for me first. I can heal you so long as you haven't passed through death's door. I would be glad to do either of these things, whenever you might have want of them, as I would for any of my friends.
[ In truth, healing isn't nearly as trivial as a cantrip is, but Marc doesn't need to know that right now. Adrian takes a sip of his (still terrible) coffee, eyeing Marc across the table. ]
( his mouth twists sharply when adrian grins and says about trying to be dramatic, like marc does appreciate it but would prefer not to. reluctance sits in the way his mouth settles the beat after, as adrian sighs and does — frankly, whatever he does, it bears little similarity to anything any magic users he's familiar with can or will do. not, of course, that marc's ever asked a single one to do anything so mundane as clean his suit. )
I'm a difficult man to please, ( he mutters instead, although there's no heat behind it, nothing that indicates he's quite as serious about the matter as he might have been had adrian not made it quite as clear that there was humour in his words.
as adrian continues, though, marc's reluctance shifts to something more palpable, more tangible. less comfortable with circumstances — not on account of the magic (that's fine), and not even because adrian considers him a friend. (marc had decided, quite quickly, that adrian was a friend regardless of how adrian might feel about him, even if showing that isn't something he's particularly skilled at.) no, the reluctance is with the rest of it, the 'ask for help' and the 'death's door'. how does that work for someone like him?
he turns his cup between his fingers, placing the handle — such as it is — just so, before— )
No. ( firm, somewhere between tired and irritable. ) He can tell me himself if it's important. ( or adrian can, if he thinks it's important enough. ) Your conversation with Steven was between the two of you. I don't—. ( AAAH. ) I can be demanding and I can be unreasonable, but I'm not intrusive.
( —or not as much as he has been, not these days. controlling is a trait that marc doesn't think he'll ever fully be able to shake, but it's something he's worked to temper after losing marlene, after losing jean-paul, after losing diatrice.
his fingers press against the mug, harder, before releasing abruptly. he takes a slow sip of (really bad) coffee and adds, ) If I need to know, one of you will tell me.
Evidently. [ He says, still light-hearted. Difficult, indeed. ] You're welcome.
[ It ought to be sarcastic or chiding, but it's perhaps a touch too sincere. He doesn't really mind. He's at least starting to understand some of why Marc seems to struggle with this sort of thing.
He watches Marc's hands as he fusses with the mug. It wouldn't be entirely unreasonable if he had said yes, had wanted to know what had been said and done when he wasn't in control of his body -- their body? -- but things between him and Steven don't work that way. Even as slivers of the same soul, they are their own people. Steven was, in many ways, very astute about Marc. ]
You've not been overly demanding with me, either, actually. Unreasonable I'll give you, but I can be a bit of a brat myself so -- we are well matched.
[ He offers Marc another smile, smaller this time, softer: ] You are doing just fine, Marc.
[ It just seems like the kind of thing he needs to hear.
( marc could explain why it might seem that he's not been demanding with adrian, he's self-aware enough for (some of) it, but the parts of it that would make most sense could be interpreted as insulting, while the rest of it requires history. backstory. and none of the people involved are here in panorama, so there's no point. the short of it is— )
You don't work for me. ( curt and certain, with an unspoken side of we're not close enough for me to be demanding. marc's attitude tends to be circular in that those closest to him bear the brunt of his worst traits, of his assumptions and his disregard. his enemies are the recipients of something similar, albeit born of different reasoning, while friends — the regular kind — and acquaintances often earn something tempered and more considerate.
where for some, familiarity breeds contempt, for marc it's thoughtlessness.
he imagines, then, that adrian's opinion will change in time, that he'll come to realise that marc is speaking about himself objectively. marc hasn't yet met anyone who's openly disagreed with the assertion, which is why adrian's you're doing fine earns a flat look, disagreeing in almost every single way, before— )
You're obstinate. That's not the same thing.
( dismissive. 'brat' isn't the word marc would use for adrian — at least, not in the current moment — but he doesn't disagree with the underlying sentiment. still, he doesn't linger on the remark, instead swiftly adding— )
No. Not just. But it was a part of it. I— ( pause. pause. ) —'ve been working on being more open.
Of course I don't. Do you really think you could pay my fee? [ Adrian replies, one eyebrow arched. He breaks a moment later, another cheeky little smile. ] So, undemanding. You should enjoy it while you can.
[ Adrian takes another sip of his coffee. He's curious to see if and how that might change. There are very specific circumstances where he might do as he's told, and outside of them he is, to put it mildly, impossibly stubborn. People who learn that quickly never like him enough to be angry about it later, when they inevitably leave.
As for his fee... If he isn't working under contact at the clinic (and sometimes even then) the only thing he's ever asked for is a story or a cup of coffee, to get to know people better. For them to open up.
Marc has, to the best of his abilities, already paid his 'fee' in some ways.
Adrian rolls his eyes, clearly considering the correction to be pedantic. There's more that he could say about being called obstinate, but Marc has already continued.
A part of him had expected the question to be dismissed. Of course Marc isn't here because he asked; he was in the area, or he had something in particular he needed, or he just thought that taking an Eldritch Blast to the face sounded like a fun... Anything, really.
His gaze drops to his cup briefly, raising again in the pause between words. ]
Oh. Well... I'm glad that you came.
wow adrian he didn't know he was going to get hit in the face okay
( marc huffs a breath that notably isn't a laugh, but it's not so divorced from one that the amusement's impossible to notice. these days, the answer is of course no, but—
he holds up a finger as if to say 'hold'. )
Before the IRS seized all my stuff? Yes.
( marc being marc, doesn't assume anything other than money when adrian says 'fee', despite adrian to-date showcasing very little interest in finances. it's an association marc's struggled to replace, despite the fact that he very deliberately has little involvement in traditional methods of earning cash, and that he's been that way for over a decade — since his first death in selima.
as for how he has earned money over the years? well, that's between him and his conscience. also — steven, and steven's ability to squirrel away money and assets where marc is both aware of and capable of using it for his own ends, and where he's not because marc has never been especially responsible with his money. and even less so when he's EXPERIENCING THE HORRORS (or being a horror, which is often much the same thing.)
he catches the way adrian rolls his eyes, though, the way marc's answer seems to catch him short. he decides not to linger on either of that, particularly the latter. it's uncomfortable in a way he's not certain how to react to, never has been.
he makes a quiet noise that sits just shy of being a disagreeing nngh, before— )
—The conversation was going to happen eventually. I'm not going to say I'm glad, but people make assumptions with and without it. I've learned the first tends to be preferable to the second.
[ Adrian gives him a look of mild confusion. He has no idea who 'The IRS' is, or why they've taken Marc's things. (Frankly, he didn't even know that Marc had 'stuff' to take. Even Steven had given a vague answer as to how the man paid for his day-to-day.)
He half-opens his mouth as if he's considering several comments, pauses, and then closes his mouth again. He's not entirely certain that he wants to know. Anyway, it had only been a joke, and he'd gotten an almost-not-quite laugh, so he'll take what victories he can have.
Adrian hums something non-committal in response to Marc's assertion that he was, more or less, just managing assumptions. ]
I can understand why you might not be eager to explain it right away... or at all. [ He still only barely understands it himself, but he doesn't want to push too hard and risk Marc closing off even more than he normally does.
He taps a finger against his cheek, hesitating a moment before he continues: ] But I meant that more generally, as well. It's nice to see you. Do you... would you like to get some better coffee, sometime?
[ There's a kind of wry resignation in his expression, like he already expects Marc to decline out of hand, but he figures that he might as well make the offer anyway. It would be nice to see him "off duty" for once, if he does that sort of thing. ]
( part of that is because marc avoids elaborating on how he pays for his day-to-day when he has to be self-sufficient. it takes a very specific type of person to decide to dress up and take the moniker of technically-two-but-it's-complicated of his villains, specifically to commit theft. marc is wholly, fully aware that his approach to OBTAINING AN INCOME is questionable at best and always has been, so the less shared the better. steven is, frankly, the best of a few bad options.
but as for his lacklustre explanation, marc's of the opinion that he's explained it pretty adequately to and for a man that (presumably) has a limited understanding of dissociative identity disorder and so, marc doesn't consider aiding adrian's understanding with anything else. he does almost respond to adrian's first remark, the one about understanding his reluctance towards explaining the situation, but he gets as far as making a general noise that signifies intent to speak before adrian continues, inviting him for coffee and— )
Are you asking me out on a date? ( skeptical and entertained all at once, with marc very deliberately avoiding adding anything else for a count of three.
then, (because obviously not), marc adds— ) I'm not precious about coffee. I've spent a lot of times in a lot of places where the best you can get is freeze-dried (shit— ) instant granules. You learn not to be picky so long as it keeps you awake. If it tastes like hot, you're doing good.
[ Adrian blinks, utterly taken aback for a half-second, like he had never considered the possibility before. He stares at Marc. He considers. Very rapidly, the golden freckles across the bridge of his nose begin to glow in what can only be interpreted as a blush.
He doesn't hear anything Marc is saying after that. It's all white noise to him.
Adrian clears his throat, still clearly distracted: ] Right, yes, hot... That is — I mean you are reasonably handsome — sometimes.
[ He puts a hand over his mouth, as it has become quite suddenly necessary to physically shut himself up, and sinks back into his chair. ]
Wait... are you teasing me? Is this funny to you? Gods, I should turn you into a newt.
( on the other hand, marc's expression is carefully neutral, his gaze fixed on adrian as adrian seems to struggle to know how to react. the blink-stare-pause earns a poorly disguised (small) smile which very much confirms that yes, marc is teasing adrian, except for the part where he manages to look startled at the you are reasonably handsome.
marc had expected that adrian had either not really thought about what he was saying or he was oblivious to the implications, what he hadn't expected was any hint of — well, anything. but then, it's hardly the first time. marc is not a man known for his astuteness when it comes to interpersonal relationships or being even the slightest bit aware of what anyone else might think, particularly in relation to himself.
(does he even consider how he feels about anyone else? no. marc rarely makes the first move.)
so — surprise that segues into uncertainty ("sometimes"? he should be offended, and yet—) into an exhale of breath as he says (lies), ) I don't have a sense of humour.
[ Sometimes, like now. The slight twitch at the corner of his lips, the way his expression relaxes just a touch... Even Adrian isn't quite so oblivious as to pretend that he's unaffected. It's just that he hadn't considered — hadn't even wondered — if this sort of thing crossed Marc's mind. It was all... idle nothing.
He has to remind himself that it still hardly matters. He only knows so much about Marc, and Marc knows even less about him, and sooner or later that will change enough for Marc to realize that even their friendship isn't worth his time.
There's really no need for him to get so flustered, to entertain the idea as if it could work. ]
I see. That's probably for the best; you would be a terrible newt. [ He's still a bit embarrassed, but he exhales with a huff.
Despite his own distractions, he hasn't missed anything in Marc's expression, neither the surprise nor the uncertainty. There's a moment's hesitation again, but Adrian sits up enough to reach across the table and place his hand over Marc's, just barely touching, easy to avoid. ]
Friend coffee, my dear. As I'm sure you can tell, I'm hardly versed in courtship, and that is the least of it... I can't even touch anyone without making them ill, for heavens' sake.
[ Well, there had been Eliot, but that had gone even worse than he could have imagined. ]
(my dear slots into the same sort of place that jean-paul's perpetual mon ami had — something that registers, but only in a vague sense, with precisely zero meaning assumed — and, well, steven had gone through a 'my dear' phase, and he'd mostly meant it condescendingly. the 'courtship', though? that registers. (yes is the answer, but only because adrian's proven the point spectacularly; up until now, marc hadn't given it the slightest thought.) the light touch of adrian's hand registers, too, but marc isn't as disinclined to touch as might be expected, and he doesn't move his hand away. )
—Only because you call it courtship. ( unthinking as he tries to work out what to offer in response. it's not like marc hasn't dated — hookups and flings in his twenties punctuated by a relationship or two that hadn't gone anywhere. marlene. greer. marlene. echo. marlene again. — but something else had always been more important in one way or another. he knows he'd been a terrible partner, alternately controlling and neglectful, and marlene had forgiven him more times than he had any right to be forgiven. (jean-paul, too—.)
he waves his other hand, a dismissive motion as if to say 'you know' before wryly adding, ) None of what I've done could be called courting.
( he doesn't say that he's often been as bad a friend as he has anything else, too. there's a reason why no-one he used to be close to will talk to him these days. )
Friend, ( he mimics adrian's emphasis, ) coffee doesn't change where my bar is.
[ Adrian wrinkles his nose. ] What's wrong with 'courtship'? That's a perfectly normal thing to call it.
[ He can't tell if Marc is being pedantic again or if the term itself is antiquated. Still, he can't disagree that he finds it hard to imagine Marc doing anything that could be called courting, even if he does seem to spend all of his time in his formal wear.
Then again, maybe he's just trying to be nice. ]
Then it's settled. Friend coffee. [ He pats Marc's hand before drawing his hands back to his mug. ] I know a place that's open late so you you needn't be up before the moon. I'll send a message when I know my shifts for next week.
[ Will Marc show up several hours late again? Adrian imagines that it's likely, but he has no shortage of reading to do and a coffee shop is a pleasant enough place to do it.
Anyway, it isn't a date. Neither of them need to have expectations.
It's just — Adrian's hands tighten around his mug again. ]
This is working. Friendship, I mean. I'm not in a hurry to make a mess of it.
[ Regardless of what his feelings might be, he's most certainly not ready to unpack them. There's very little that Adrian is truly afraid of, often to his peril, but the idea of raising the stakes of a friendship into romance, so that it has just that much further to fall when it falls apart — that is both novel and terrifying. ]
( it's punctuated by a flicker of his expression, like he wants to be offended by the insinuation that he won't be awake at regular people-and-business hours before shifting, quite quickly, into resignation at the fact that adrian's right. he might be awake in the early afternoon, but if he can stick to routine and if he can manage a semi-reasonable amount of sleep, then— no. it'll be evening.
still— ) I have an alarm clock, Adrian.
( —so why had he been late? don't ask that question. (will he be late? also yes. but it's nothing personal, okay.)
he considers that more-or-less his cue to leave, and he moves to stand, his coffee still almost entirely untouched. through habit, he make his way towards the window rather than the door, only pausing when adrian finishes speaking. he doesn't turn towards adrian, but he looks over his shoulder enough that he can catch the shape of him in his periphery.
reese had shared some of the conversation marlene had with her, but only after also sharing what she thought of marlene — rude, lacking in manners, unfair — but reese lacked context. lacked understanding. it was nice of her, but unfortunately none of it — none of marc — was quite that simple.
as marlene had said: marc saves people, but not himself and not the people closest to him. eventually, too, the horror outpaces the excitement, and there's no room in anyone's life for him once it gets to that. he doesn't disagree. he disagrees less with jean-paul's assertion, but jean-paul had always seen him most clearly. he won't stop. it's not for lack of want. he's tried, here and there over the years, and always ended up right back where he started.
so, adrian says this — friendship — is working, that he's in no hurry to ruin it, and all marc can think is that adrian hardly needs to be worried about what he'll do. marc tends to do a good enough job of that all by himself.
but unlike adrian, he doesn't differentiate between friendship and romance. he's just as skilled at ending both, it hardly matters what is what. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he slides off the table and turns his back to adrian, seemingly paying zero attention to adrian's words. the still-open book in front of adrian's chair gets pulled towards marc, and he takes a (probably rude, probably inconsiderate, but he won't acknowledge that) moment to skim the first page. it's nothing particularly comprehensible to him, but it at least buys some time and gives some credence to his silence.
marc may have said they needed to talk, but that doesn't mean he's going to — is capable of — making the conversation easy. )
Whisky, ( he remarks bluntly, with no immediate indication as to whether he's referring to himself or steven. ) The older, the better. ( a beat, a sidelong glance; a turn of a page. (hope you weren't feeling too precious about what you were reading, adrian.) marc's gaze flits towards the coffee machine, then back to adrian. as an additional explanation— ) The more expensive, the better.
( steven, then. marc has never been fussy, has never been particular — when he'd been younger, it'd been a case of whatever was available was good enough, and it'd mostly stayed that way, though if and when given the choice, he'd opt for vodka. cold and strong, the former an offset to a lot of time spent in hot countries, the latter an offset to — you know, sobriety.
it'd taken him a long time to admit the preference was partially due to it being what his parents had drank. in his teens and in his twenties, even approaching his thirties — all the way through to his father's death — he'd avoided acknowledging any degree of similarity between himself and elias, any want of similarity.
a wave of a hand, then, and— ) You didn't make the conversation enjoyable.
( is that marc's opinion or is that steven's? who knows, possibly not even marc give the way his expression tightens almost immediately after he's spoken. he exhales a breath through his nose and his features flatten as he holds up a hand, fingers curled but for the index and middle. )
Shared residence. ( accompanied by finger quotes and a pointed, assessing stare, uttered in much the same way anyone else might go for an exasperated god—.
(that's a 'yes', then.)
(he's aware, too, that adrian is asking for marc's explanation in a roundabout way, but marc's not sure how and where to start.) )
no subject
He pushes to his feet, then settles again on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed, watching Marc fuss with his textbook. For a while, the only sound is the steady drip of the coffee maker and the turning of pages.
His mouth twitches at the mention of whiskey, a touch of haughty distaste coming into his expression. Even having spent so many years on his own, Adrian couldn't possibly escape his upbringing entirely, and the knowledge that something being more expensive doesn't necessarily make it better.
Obviously, he will have to correct this misapprehension by finding Marc (Steven) some truly good whiskey. He can manage it, probably. If he's careful.
You didn't make the conversation enjoyable.
He shrugs, expression falling into neutrality again, but there's an undercurrent to it. He's annoyed at Marc. ]
Now that you're here, I am sorry that I threatened him... I thought I was very restrained about it, all things considered. [ Adrian does have the grace to grimace at his own words, hearing how they sound out loud. ] At the time, I had no idea what had happened to you. You must understand what it's like to run into a stranger in a coffee shop, wearing your skin like a new suit. So yes, I was a bit unpleasant.
[ Adrian waves a hand, relenting. ] And yes, I know this isn't his fault.
[ He gets up, walks over to where his textbook is. It's a detailed guide to parasitic humanoids with startlingly detailed diagrams. Catching up on medical texts isn't exactly easy when he only has access to what happens to be available at the thrift store.
He flips the pages back, trying to find the one that he was on before Marc skipped past it. It does give him something to do with his hands. ]
Before I gained my magical abilities, I was a doctor. Unfortunately, my medical knowledge is currently both woefully outdated and far too narrow in scope... So, I have been working on catching up. I haven't been trying to diagnose you, if that's what you're wondering about. Steven seemed convinced that you should be the one to explain, so I am keen to respect that. [ He slides an old receipt into place like a bookmark and closes the textbook. ]
You don't have to give me all of the details, Marc. But it would put my mind at ease if I knew what was ordinary for you, and when to be concerned. It would also save me a fortune in apology whiskey for Steven... and any other guests.
no subject
it's a silent fuck you, of the sort that he's aware is unreasonable, the kind that andrea tolerates and then pokes and prods at until he finally, eventually elaborates. but adrian isn't andrea, and marc leans forward into adrian's space, like he's trying to find something in adrian, only seeming to change his mind about what he's doing-thinking-might do when adrian waves his hand.
"I know—", adrian says, and the noise marc makes suggests that he doesn't believe that in the slightest.
(even if it's true. none of it is steven's fault.)
(it's technically marc's fault—.)
he takes a step back as adrian reclaims the textbook, the corners of his mouth curving unhappily, though whether that's more to do with adrian's words or his actions remain unclear. quite deliberately, he pulls out a chair and sits at an angle, resting one arm across the back of the chair and drawing the opposite leg up, resting his ankle against his knee. )
I wasn't wondering, Adrian. ( cool and calm. (none of the above.) one-by-one, marc pulls at the fingers of first one glove, then the other, before removing them entirely and placing them down on the table. ) We're running a couple decades behind Google.
( a beat; a drum of fingers against the table. (is the coffee done yet? please, lower your standards for coffee, adrian. instant is completely fine.)
then— )
You know it's relative? ( a flick of his hand in lieu of finger quotes again. ) "Restraint." ( ha. ) I'd put money on us having different definitions of the term.
( which is to say— )
Steven's not the man you should be worried about dealing with. But he's not a guest.
( —that is truly the worst way of putting it, adrian. )
And he's not—. ( he doesn't want to replace me? that may be true, but it's not something marc always belives. he doesn't finish the sentence. ) We have a history. Without him, my life would be very different.
no subject
I wasn't wondering, Adrian.
Adrian huffs. He has no idea what Google is, but he's not going to ask now. The last thing he needs is to let Marc have some excuse to go on a tangent, or to be smug.
He walks away while Marc makes a show of being impatient. Adrian is busy retrieving mugs from his traveling pack and doing breathing exercises. If they both get snippy, he's not going to get anywhere. ] ...Fair enough. I threatened your friend. You're within your rights to retaliate. If we're done with that, however...
[ He pulls out two mugs; a plain white one with a chip in rim, and a novelty monstrosity.
When he pours coffee into them, he sets the bird mug on the table beside Marc. (It's only right, since he's a guest, that he doesn't get a broken mug.) Adrian takes the empty chair and starts opening sugar packets to pour into his own coffee. ]
He doesn't seem like a bad person. He said he'd known you his whole life. Have you always — and if you want me to call it something else, you will have to tell me what that is — have you always shared a body?
no subject
and he doesn't say anything. he thinks of steven asking him what he was afraid of and his own defensive, angry response. I'm not afraid of anything. (I am afraid.) he rearranges himself, turning fully towards the table (and adrian), drops his leg to the ground and sits, for once, wholly ordinary. no posturing. no hiding behind body language. as he does so, he realises he's tired — not physically, no, because whatever adrian did had dealt with that, but in every other sense.
he wishes he had a mask. it wouldn't make the conversation easier, wouldn't take it further away from resignation and reluctance, but at least adrian wouldn't be able to see his face.
"his whole life." (ha, funny.) "shared a body." better, and marc murmurs a vague noise of assent as he turns his coffee mug, making sure that the handle — such that there is one — is on the right, before— )
I was a kid. ( it's still curt, lacking in much of anything that can be described as softness, but there are fewer edges. the lingering frustration is more inward than it is anything directed towards adrian.
his mouth twists, nose scrunching, and he continues to avoid looking at adrian. ) Something happened— ( he waves a hand, tight and restrained, a kind of non-verbal whatever that indicates that whatever the something was, he's not elaborating. ) Steven ( and jake, he doesn't say, ) was how my mind dealt with that.
( it hangs a little awkwardly, like marc thinks he should be adding something else, like he doesn't think that's going to be enough of an answer for adrian, but it's where he leaves it, tension and reluctance evident in the hunch of his shoulders, the tight knit of his brow. )
no subject
This is hard for him, whatever the explanation is. That much is obvious.
He doesn't expect Marc to open with that particular statement. Short as it is, it speaks volumes. Adrian does look up at him, but he keeps his expression neutral. He knows how Marc gets with what he perceives to be pity.
Instead, Adrian's brow furrows. He's never heard of anything like this before. ] So Steven... is a part of your mind?
[ A shard of his soul, perhaps? That is something he has context for, right down to the something happening to cause it. Though it's still only barely comparable, it does make a kind of sense. Adrian nods slowly. ] Did he make an appearance because of the meteors, then? Or do you trade places as you both see fit?
no subject
this isn't, then, something he has much familiarity with navigating. not in recent years, anyway. there'd been hospitalisations, there'd been doctors, but they all knew — roughly — what and who they were dealing with. here, he has to provide context and whatever else. he almost misses the days of pretending steven and jake were just disgusies, an easy explanation full of don't worry about it, it's under control. now, he doesn't think marlene had ever really bought it, but it'd been an easy way to dance around the real problem for a while.
he meets adrian's gaze, his coffee entirely untouched. he half considers not answering, of forcing the conversation elsewhere before admitting— ) Steven has his uses. I haven't always recognised that.
no subject
Adrian finds them both a bit opaque in different ways, but Steven had so obviously to cared for Marc, and even this much seems difficult for Marc to admit. Uses, indeed. ]
You look after each other, I suppose? In your own ways. [ He can't say that he expects much of an answer to that statement. ] I feel as if I should tell you what I told him.
[ Adrian sets his mug down and holds out a gloved hand. ] Your hand, please.
no subject
and, if pressed, he'd argue that alongside everything else, it's hardly very fucking opaque. uses—!
though much like the time andrea had asked marc what steven and jake thought of being dragged into marc's perpetual war as moon knight and marc being faced, abruptly, with the knowledge that he's never once asked their opinions, never once considered their feelings, adrian asking — commenting, really — that steven and marc must look after each other has marc realising that—
no.
not really.
what does he do for steven except cause problems? lose their money. alienate his employees. torch grantcorp's reputation. get them investigated by the IRS.
the beat of silence is telling, and marc keeps his face still, expression unchanged as he glances towards adrian's hand, the edges of unwanted self-consciousness softened by questioning.
(he didn't ask about their conversation.)
(god.)
(he should have stayed at home.) )
—Is this going to be some kind of telepathy thing? ( abrupt and incredulous and seemingly entirely in spite of himself. )
no subject
I don't have any telepathic abilities... Do you? [ Is that why he's asking? More likely, Adrian assumes, he's just familiar with those who do have such abilities. (Frankly, if he did have a Telepathy spell, that would make much of this conversation easier. As things stand, he feels as if he's often trying to catch up with Marc's train of thought.)
He doesn't move at all, elbow restring against the table, hand open and palm-up. ]
I thought it would be better received if you knew where I planned to cast. I was going to remove the many stains from your glove and sleeve... If you have no objections?
[ Many is an exaggeration, but there is blood and dirt.
Considering his work at the clinic and the long sleeves that he always wears, Adrian should have long since acquired similar stains, but his own white shirt is pristine. Magic is useful like that. ]
no subject
does he object? not really, not in and of himself — don't ask him about how much he spends on dry cleaning at home, or how much of his free time he dedicates to doing laundry here. it's a lot (unsurprisingly), but it's the price to be paid for the life he lives.
regardless— it's a pain in the ass to have to clean so consistently, so frequently. despite misgivings, he grunts a noise of — acknowledgement? agreement? not disagreement — before, ) I thought you were telling me about your conversation.
( doesn't mean he's not going to act at least a little disgruntled about the entire thing. he has an image to maintain, adrian. )
I don't have any abilities. ( pointed. ) Doesn't make my head any more fun for anyone to experience. ( on the off-chance that adrian did have telepathic abilities. he cares, you know. )
no subject
[ He doubts that Marc thinks he's being dramatic almost as much as he doubts that Marc will appreciate his attempt at it, but sometimes Marc is wrong.
He sighs and lowers his hand, flexing his fingers. ]
I pray for your cleansing grace.
[ He makes a sweeping motion with his hand, and the stains vanish, from the glove to about halfway up Marc's arm, leaving the suit the same pristine white that it must have been the day it was made. Adrian props his cheek against his fist and reaches for his coffee mug again. ]
As I told Steven, I do wish that you would more freely ask for help — and not because I doubt your capabilities, but because this sort of thing is trivial for me. I can do the whole suit in a few seconds if you fold it up for me first. I can heal you so long as you haven't passed through death's door. I would be glad to do either of these things, whenever you might have want of them, as I would for any of my friends.
[ In truth, healing isn't nearly as trivial as a cantrip is, but Marc doesn't need to know that right now. Adrian takes a sip of his (still terrible) coffee, eyeing Marc across the table. ]
Do you want to know what else we spoke about?
no subject
I'm a difficult man to please, ( he mutters instead, although there's no heat behind it, nothing that indicates he's quite as serious about the matter as he might have been had adrian not made it quite as clear that there was humour in his words.
as adrian continues, though, marc's reluctance shifts to something more palpable, more tangible. less comfortable with circumstances — not on account of the magic (that's fine), and not even because adrian considers him a friend. (marc had decided, quite quickly, that adrian was a friend regardless of how adrian might feel about him, even if showing that isn't something he's particularly skilled at.) no, the reluctance is with the rest of it, the 'ask for help' and the 'death's door'. how does that work for someone like him?
he turns his cup between his fingers, placing the handle — such as it is — just so, before— )
No. ( firm, somewhere between tired and irritable. ) He can tell me himself if it's important. ( or adrian can, if he thinks it's important enough. ) Your conversation with Steven was between the two of you. I don't—. ( AAAH. ) I can be demanding and I can be unreasonable, but I'm not intrusive.
( —or not as much as he has been, not these days. controlling is a trait that marc doesn't think he'll ever fully be able to shake, but it's something he's worked to temper after losing marlene, after losing jean-paul, after losing diatrice.
his fingers press against the mug, harder, before releasing abruptly. he takes a slow sip of (really bad) coffee and adds, ) If I need to know, one of you will tell me.
( right? right. )
That's not why I'm here.
no subject
[ It ought to be sarcastic or chiding, but it's perhaps a touch too sincere. He doesn't really mind. He's at least starting to understand some of why Marc seems to struggle with this sort of thing.
He watches Marc's hands as he fusses with the mug. It wouldn't be entirely unreasonable if he had said yes, had wanted to know what had been said and done when he wasn't in control of his body -- their body? -- but things between him and Steven don't work that way. Even as slivers of the same soul, they are their own people. Steven was, in many ways, very astute about Marc. ]
You've not been overly demanding with me, either, actually. Unreasonable I'll give you, but I can be a bit of a brat myself so -- we are well matched.
[ He offers Marc another smile, smaller this time, softer: ] You are doing just fine, Marc.
[ It just seems like the kind of thing he needs to hear.
He leans his chin on his fist again. ]
Why are you here? Just because I asked?
no subject
You don't work for me. ( curt and certain, with an unspoken side of we're not close enough for me to be demanding. marc's attitude tends to be circular in that those closest to him bear the brunt of his worst traits, of his assumptions and his disregard. his enemies are the recipients of something similar, albeit born of different reasoning, while friends — the regular kind — and acquaintances often earn something tempered and more considerate.
where for some, familiarity breeds contempt, for marc it's thoughtlessness.
he imagines, then, that adrian's opinion will change in time, that he'll come to realise that marc is speaking about himself objectively. marc hasn't yet met anyone who's openly disagreed with the assertion, which is why adrian's you're doing fine earns a flat look, disagreeing in almost every single way, before— )
You're obstinate. That's not the same thing.
( dismissive. 'brat' isn't the word marc would use for adrian — at least, not in the current moment — but he doesn't disagree with the underlying sentiment. still, he doesn't linger on the remark, instead swiftly adding— )
No. Not just. But it was a part of it. I— ( pause. pause. ) —'ve been working on being more open.
( 'this is me being better.' )
no subject
[ Adrian takes another sip of his coffee. He's curious to see if and how that might change. There are very specific circumstances where he might do as he's told, and outside of them he is, to put it mildly, impossibly stubborn. People who learn that quickly never like him enough to be angry about it later, when they inevitably leave.
As for his fee... If he isn't working under contact at the clinic (and sometimes even then) the only thing he's ever asked for is a story or a cup of coffee, to get to know people better. For them to open up.
Marc has, to the best of his abilities, already paid his 'fee' in some ways.
Adrian rolls his eyes, clearly considering the correction to be pedantic. There's more that he could say about being called obstinate, but Marc has already continued.
A part of him had expected the question to be dismissed. Of course Marc isn't here because he asked; he was in the area, or he had something in particular he needed, or he just thought that taking an Eldritch Blast to the face sounded like a fun... Anything, really.
His gaze drops to his cup briefly, raising again in the pause between words. ]
Oh. Well... I'm glad that you came.
wow adrian he didn't know he was going to get hit in the face okay
he holds up a finger as if to say 'hold'. )
Before the IRS seized all my stuff? Yes.
( marc being marc, doesn't assume anything other than money when adrian says 'fee', despite adrian to-date showcasing very little interest in finances. it's an association marc's struggled to replace, despite the fact that he very deliberately has little involvement in traditional methods of earning cash, and that he's been that way for over a decade — since his first death in selima.
as for how he has earned money over the years? well, that's between him and his conscience. also — steven, and steven's ability to squirrel away money and assets where marc is both aware of and capable of using it for his own ends, and where he's not because marc has never been especially responsible with his money. and even less so when he's EXPERIENCING THE HORRORS (or being a horror, which is often much the same thing.)
he catches the way adrian rolls his eyes, though, the way marc's answer seems to catch him short. he decides not to linger on either of that, particularly the latter. it's uncomfortable in a way he's not certain how to react to, never has been.
he makes a quiet noise that sits just shy of being a disagreeing nngh, before— )
—The conversation was going to happen eventually. I'm not going to say I'm glad, but people make assumptions with and without it. I've learned the first tends to be preferable to the second.
it was just a fun bonus perk for him
He half-opens his mouth as if he's considering several comments, pauses, and then closes his mouth again. He's not entirely certain that he wants to know. Anyway, it had only been a joke, and he'd gotten an almost-not-quite laugh, so he'll take what victories he can have.
Adrian hums something non-committal in response to Marc's assertion that he was, more or less, just managing assumptions. ]
I can understand why you might not be eager to explain it right away... or at all. [ He still only barely understands it himself, but he doesn't want to push too hard and risk Marc closing off even more than he normally does.
He taps a finger against his cheek, hesitating a moment before he continues: ] But I meant that more generally, as well. It's nice to see you. Do you... would you like to get some better coffee, sometime?
[ There's a kind of wry resignation in his expression, like he already expects Marc to decline out of hand, but he figures that he might as well make the offer anyway. It would be nice to see him "off duty" for once, if he does that sort of thing. ]
no subject
but as for his lacklustre explanation, marc's of the opinion that he's explained it pretty adequately to and for a man that (presumably) has a limited understanding of dissociative identity disorder and so, marc doesn't consider aiding adrian's understanding with anything else. he does almost respond to adrian's first remark, the one about understanding his reluctance towards explaining the situation, but he gets as far as making a general noise that signifies intent to speak before adrian continues, inviting him for coffee and— )
Are you asking me out on a date? ( skeptical and entertained all at once, with marc very deliberately avoiding adding anything else for a count of three.
then, (because obviously not), marc adds— ) I'm not precious about coffee. I've spent a lot of times in a lot of places where the best you can get is freeze-dried ( shit— ) instant granules. You learn not to be picky so long as it keeps you awake. If it tastes like hot, you're doing good.
( hot what? doesn't matter. just hot. )
no subject
He doesn't hear anything Marc is saying after that. It's all white noise to him.
Adrian clears his throat, still clearly distracted: ] Right, yes, hot... That is — I mean you are reasonably handsome — sometimes.
[ He puts a hand over his mouth, as it has become quite suddenly necessary to physically shut himself up, and sinks back into his chair. ]
Wait... are you teasing me? Is this funny to you? Gods, I should turn you into a newt.
[ He cannot, in fact, turn Marc into a newt. ]
no subject
marc had expected that adrian had either not really thought about what he was saying or he was oblivious to the implications, what he hadn't expected was any hint of — well, anything. but then, it's hardly the first time. marc is not a man known for his astuteness when it comes to interpersonal relationships or being even the slightest bit aware of what anyone else might think, particularly in relation to himself.
(does he even consider how he feels about anyone else? no. marc rarely makes the first move.)
so — surprise that segues into uncertainty ("sometimes"? he should be offended, and yet—) into an exhale of breath as he says (lies), ) I don't have a sense of humour.
no subject
He has to remind himself that it still hardly matters. He only knows so much about Marc, and Marc knows even less about him, and sooner or later that will change enough for Marc to realize that even their friendship isn't worth his time.
There's really no need for him to get so flustered, to entertain the idea as if it could work. ]
I see. That's probably for the best; you would be a terrible newt. [ He's still a bit embarrassed, but he exhales with a huff.
Despite his own distractions, he hasn't missed anything in Marc's expression, neither the surprise nor the uncertainty. There's a moment's hesitation again, but Adrian sits up enough to reach across the table and place his hand over Marc's, just barely touching, easy to avoid. ]
Friend coffee, my dear. As I'm sure you can tell, I'm hardly versed in courtship, and that is the least of it... I can't even touch anyone without making them ill, for heavens' sake.
[ Well, there had been Eliot, but that had gone even worse than he could have imagined. ]
no subject
—Only because you call it courtship. ( unthinking as he tries to work out what to offer in response. it's not like marc hasn't dated — hookups and flings in his twenties punctuated by a relationship or two that hadn't gone anywhere. marlene. greer. marlene. echo. marlene again. — but something else had always been more important in one way or another. he knows he'd been a terrible partner, alternately controlling and neglectful, and marlene had forgiven him more times than he had any right to be forgiven. (jean-paul, too—.)
he waves his other hand, a dismissive motion as if to say 'you know' before wryly adding, ) None of what I've done could be called courting.
( he doesn't say that he's often been as bad a friend as he has anything else, too. there's a reason why no-one he used to be close to will talk to him these days. )
Friend, ( he mimics adrian's emphasis, ) coffee doesn't change where my bar is.
( the ground. )
no subject
[ He can't tell if Marc is being pedantic again or if the term itself is antiquated. Still, he can't disagree that he finds it hard to imagine Marc doing anything that could be called courting, even if he does seem to spend all of his time in his formal wear.
Then again, maybe he's just trying to be nice. ]
Then it's settled. Friend coffee. [ He pats Marc's hand before drawing his hands back to his mug. ] I know a place that's open late so you you needn't be up before the moon. I'll send a message when I know my shifts for next week.
[ Will Marc show up several hours late again? Adrian imagines that it's likely, but he has no shortage of reading to do and a coffee shop is a pleasant enough place to do it.
Anyway, it isn't a date. Neither of them need to have expectations.
It's just — Adrian's hands tighten around his mug again. ]
This is working. Friendship, I mean. I'm not in a hurry to make a mess of it.
[ Regardless of what his feelings might be, he's most certainly not ready to unpack them. There's very little that Adrian is truly afraid of, often to his peril, but the idea of raising the stakes of a friendship into romance, so that it has just that much further to fall when it falls apart — that is both novel and terrifying. ]
no subject
( it's punctuated by a flicker of his expression, like he wants to be offended by the insinuation that he won't be awake at regular people-and-business hours before shifting, quite quickly, into resignation at the fact that adrian's right. he might be awake in the early afternoon, but if he can stick to routine and if he can manage a semi-reasonable amount of sleep, then— no. it'll be evening.
still— ) I have an alarm clock, Adrian.
( —so why had he been late? don't ask that question. (will he be late? also yes. but it's nothing personal, okay.)
he considers that more-or-less his cue to leave, and he moves to stand, his coffee still almost entirely untouched. through habit, he make his way towards the window rather than the door, only pausing when adrian finishes speaking. he doesn't turn towards adrian, but he looks over his shoulder enough that he can catch the shape of him in his periphery.
reese had shared some of the conversation marlene had with her, but only after also sharing what she thought of marlene — rude, lacking in manners, unfair — but reese lacked context. lacked understanding. it was nice of her, but unfortunately none of it — none of marc — was quite that simple.
as marlene had said: marc saves people, but not himself and not the people closest to him. eventually, too, the horror outpaces the excitement, and there's no room in anyone's life for him once it gets to that. he doesn't disagree. he disagrees less with jean-paul's assertion, but jean-paul had always seen him most clearly. he won't stop. it's not for lack of want. he's tried, here and there over the years, and always ended up right back where he started.
so, adrian says this — friendship — is working, that he's in no hurry to ruin it, and all marc can think is that adrian hardly needs to be worried about what he'll do. marc tends to do a good enough job of that all by himself.
but unlike adrian, he doesn't differentiate between friendship and romance. he's just as skilled at ending both, it hardly matters what is what. )
You won't. Thank you for the coffee.
(no subject)