( ooc YELLS oh my god hiiii WHAT A SMALL WORLD, i'm so delighted to run into you again!! and aaah, ty for the offer! but i've managed to nab an invite 😌 )
( marc would say yes, he's a ghost, but marc's prone to dramatics and has a rather unique sense of self in relation to who and what he is, both generally and after dying and being resurrected so many times. marc spector, he's certain, is a dead man. he'd died in the desert and who he'd become after that is complicated. the answer, then, wouldn't be especially comforting to bob, so it's perhaps for the best that it's not (yet) vocalised.
he can tell that the man is mouthing something — shouting? he's not sure, and it's too dark to be able to guess at the words he's trying to say. the shadows, the wetness, the reflections in the water, but marc does pause, not because he's managed to correctly guess that bob's yelled 'wait', but because he's trying to decide on what he could be saying and trying to decide how else to get into the building. could he use the guy's car to drive into the doors? maybe. it's an option, one he'll pocket for now if only because it's not his car and he'd be opening himself up to another loan for an attempt that isn't guaranteed success, not if the window's anything to go by.
and then there's a binder being held up to the window, and marc's attention swings from it to bob and back again, a very clear question of 'what?' sitting in his features. it's tight, bemused, sharp in the way that his brows knit together and the corners of his mouth dip down. it doesn't occur to marc that bob might think to throw it because if the window hadn't shattered with his truncheon, what would a binder do?
and so marc shrugs.
a moment after that, he holds a hand up to an ear, palm facing out as if to say 'listen', before he shakes his head. can't hear, he means, and on the basis of that, he's assuming that bob inside wouldn't be able to hear him if he yelled. a beat after that, he holds his hand to his eyes as if trying to peer inside, and then gestures — points — at bob as if to say 'what can you see?'
because it sure as fuck hasn't occurred to marc that the binder might be useful. he's much more familiar with brute-forcing his way into and out of situations. )
no subject
( marc would say yes, he's a ghost, but marc's prone to dramatics and has a rather unique sense of self in relation to who and what he is, both generally and after dying and being resurrected so many times. marc spector, he's certain, is a dead man. he'd died in the desert and who he'd become after that is complicated. the answer, then, wouldn't be especially comforting to bob, so it's perhaps for the best that it's not (yet) vocalised.
he can tell that the man is mouthing something — shouting? he's not sure, and it's too dark to be able to guess at the words he's trying to say. the shadows, the wetness, the reflections in the water, but marc does pause, not because he's managed to correctly guess that bob's yelled 'wait', but because he's trying to decide on what he could be saying and trying to decide how else to get into the building. could he use the guy's car to drive into the doors? maybe. it's an option, one he'll pocket for now if only because it's not his car and he'd be opening himself up to another loan for an attempt that isn't guaranteed success, not if the window's anything to go by.
and then there's a binder being held up to the window, and marc's attention swings from it to bob and back again, a very clear question of 'what?' sitting in his features. it's tight, bemused, sharp in the way that his brows knit together and the corners of his mouth dip down. it doesn't occur to marc that bob might think to throw it because if the window hadn't shattered with his truncheon, what would a binder do?
and so marc shrugs.
a moment after that, he holds a hand up to an ear, palm facing out as if to say 'listen', before he shakes his head. can't hear, he means, and on the basis of that, he's assuming that bob inside wouldn't be able to hear him if he yelled. a beat after that, he holds his hand to his eyes as if trying to peer inside, and then gestures — points — at bob as if to say 'what can you see?'
because it sure as fuck hasn't occurred to marc that the binder might be useful. he's much more familiar with brute-forcing his way into and out of situations. )