( most of the time, marc's aware that his sartorial choices are considered a hindrance in his line of work, but he likes being seen. he likes the fact that by now, after this long, everyone knows what it means, even if they don't know which moon knight they're going to get — the one that dangles two-bit thieves over wood chippers just to frighten them and leaves it at that? or the one that takes his time, carves crescent moons into flesh to serve as reminders? the message has never been pretty, he's not proud of most of it, but all he's ever left himself with is the fallout, and he's had to make do with it as he will — and in that respect, he can't deny it's been effective.
and besides— the moon's white. who'd he be to wear any other colour?
he doesn't assume that's why jason takes point, but given jason's own choice of attire, marc can guess it's played a part, at least if he's on the same side of things as marc as implied. if not, then jason's leading him straight into the sort of interesting that marc enjoys the most, and he's confident — arrogant — enough to think that he'd come out of it on top.
and so, as he follows jason, keeping pace a half-metre behind him, even as his gaze slides from jason's back to the stairwell. up. it's quieter here, colder —less heat, less use, little but the sound of footsteps breaking the silence between them.
—that is, until there's another thud and here, it's easier to tell it's the sound of something hard hitting something soft, whatever follows disguised by a series of yells. marc inhales sharply through his nose, no hesitation present as he shifts to a run, sharp and sudden, straight at the door that leads onto the landing of the next floor up.
(he keeps track of jason, of how he reacts, what he responds to, but he doesn't demand, ask, or tell. jason isn't reese, he's not soldier, and he's certainly not mogart's boy. what he does of his own accord will inform marc's choices.) )
no subject
and besides— the moon's white. who'd he be to wear any other colour?
he doesn't assume that's why jason takes point, but given jason's own choice of attire, marc can guess it's played a part, at least if he's on the same side of things as marc as implied. if not, then jason's leading him straight into the sort of interesting that marc enjoys the most, and he's confident — arrogant — enough to think that he'd come out of it on top.
and so, as he follows jason, keeping pace a half-metre behind him, even as his gaze slides from jason's back to the stairwell. up. it's quieter here, colder —less heat, less use, little but the sound of footsteps breaking the silence between them.
—that is, until there's another thud and here, it's easier to tell it's the sound of something hard hitting something soft, whatever follows disguised by a series of yells. marc inhales sharply through his nose, no hesitation present as he shifts to a run, sharp and sudden, straight at the door that leads onto the landing of the next floor up.
(he keeps track of jason, of how he reacts, what he responds to, but he doesn't demand, ask, or tell. jason isn't reese, he's not soldier, and he's certainly not mogart's boy. what he does of his own accord will inform marc's choices.) )