( it's a very usual conversation for marc, and though he knows his usual approach to conversational topics leans towards less pleasant or, at best, more off-kilter, than how most people lean, he's never been able to adjust himself for any length of time. steven's better at it — easy, charming, sophisticated, and while jake's rougher, he's affable. roguish. unafraid of showing how much he gives a shit.
it makes a difference, and he's never been able to fathom why anyone would choose him if the other two were options. he wouldn't. marlene hadn't, not for a long while, not until marc was forced into honesty and steven's appearances grew less frequent.
he thinks the only person who had — until greer, until reese, until soldier — was jean-paul, and even he'd been driven away by marc's inability to be better, it'd just taken longer than most.
but she uses that word again — special — and marc looks to her, mentally skipping past the maybe-teasing of it all to wonder if there's a why to it. she didn't ask if she thought he was better than here, just too special. a quiet part of him says it's because it's not hard to guess that there aren't many places that marc's better than. )
I've died before, ( he states, bluntly. it serves as a response to both the question and her own remark on death, on dying. on it being preferable. it's not a self-pitying remark, it's not doubtful, but it is quiet and firm, certain. it's not 'nearly died', not 'had near death experiences', it's have.
at times, marc's treated it with a levity he's never genuinely felt — "it was boring" — purely to create an impression. moon knight. the man that doesn't stay dead. won't stay dead. the rest of the time, when he's him and not moon knight, he wonders what it's done to him — not the parts of him that belong to khonshu now, but the parts of him that had him reciting the shema before dying for what he'd expected to be the final time. the parts of him that keep ben grimm's annual hanukkah cards.
probably hasn't turned him into anything uglier, but it certainly hasn't made him better. he'd thought he wanted it the first time, but then he'd sold himself out, turned his back on his faith and his people and everything that'd ever tried to make him good. ) Death isn't the problem, it's the dying.
( he pausing, flexing a hand before balling it up into a fist. it's not quite fidgeting, marc would claim he doesn't do that, but he does do uncomfortable. anywhere else, and he'd probably pace, but he doesn't have the option for it, not without looking as if he's walking away from her, and so— )
And unfortunately you've got to go through that before you get to being dead. ( a glance, not quite sharp, but searching. ) Living's harder, and pain's the trade-off. But it's about taking those scars and turning them into something else. A tool. A weapon.
sighs in oh look it's marc's favourite topic
it makes a difference, and he's never been able to fathom why anyone would choose him if the other two were options. he wouldn't. marlene hadn't, not for a long while, not until marc was forced into honesty and steven's appearances grew less frequent.
he thinks the only person who had — until greer, until reese, until soldier — was jean-paul, and even he'd been driven away by marc's inability to be better, it'd just taken longer than most.
but she uses that word again — special — and marc looks to her, mentally skipping past the maybe-teasing of it all to wonder if there's a why to it. she didn't ask if she thought he was better than here, just too special. a quiet part of him says it's because it's not hard to guess that there aren't many places that marc's better than. )
I've died before, ( he states, bluntly. it serves as a response to both the question and her own remark on death, on dying. on it being preferable. it's not a self-pitying remark, it's not doubtful, but it is quiet and firm, certain. it's not 'nearly died', not 'had near death experiences', it's have.
at times, marc's treated it with a levity he's never genuinely felt — "it was boring" — purely to create an impression. moon knight. the man that doesn't stay dead. won't stay dead. the rest of the time, when he's him and not moon knight, he wonders what it's done to him — not the parts of him that belong to khonshu now, but the parts of him that had him reciting the shema before dying for what he'd expected to be the final time. the parts of him that keep ben grimm's annual hanukkah cards.
probably hasn't turned him into anything uglier, but it certainly hasn't made him better. he'd thought he wanted it the first time, but then he'd sold himself out, turned his back on his faith and his people and everything that'd ever tried to make him good. ) Death isn't the problem, it's the dying.
( he pausing, flexing a hand before balling it up into a fist. it's not quite fidgeting, marc would claim he doesn't do that, but he does do uncomfortable. anywhere else, and he'd probably pace, but he doesn't have the option for it, not without looking as if he's walking away from her, and so— )
And unfortunately you've got to go through that before you get to being dead. ( a glance, not quite sharp, but searching. ) Living's harder, and pain's the trade-off. But it's about taking those scars and turning them into something else. A tool. A weapon.