Yeah figured he would. Dunno if he gave you every detail but good thing you guys are patching stuff up too.
Shoulder's in one piece just like the bullet so ig I lucked out. I'm waiting to hear back on when they're gonna remove it or if they can or w/e. Did you get looked at?
[It sounds like Noctis' shoulder could be in worse shape. It's such a strange thing to be grateful for, after all that's happened, but it's a small relief.]
I've spoken with him. Things are fine now between us; I think we both understand that it wasn't the fault of either, and that we both said things that we didn't mean.
[But there's no point in going into detail.]
I don't need to be looked at; my injuries will heal on their own, it'll just take some time. I'm more worried about the two of you.
Sorry had to think about it. Not sure when the doctors are gonna bug me and this sounds like it'll be awkward but yeah we need to do it. If we get interrupted it's nbd.
I'm in 303.
[ His honesty may be tactless but maybe it's a fitting preface to what'll greet Markus when he heads to that room. His arm's heavily bandaged, wrapped tight to limit mobility and further supported by a cheap blue sling that he finds a little primitive compared to the eye-catching lights and advanced machinery otherwise outfitting the room. But it goes beyond his arm -- one whole side of his face is visibly scraped and reddened, and the dampness of his hair suggests it's been washed recently, whether to remove it of dirt, blood, or both.
The bruises are thankfully a little less dramatic and largely hidden by clothing, only sporting one or two on his face that might catch the eye and another on his wrist. ]
[He’d rather Noctis be blunt about it, than to pretend that everything would be fine and not-awkward-at-all if he visited. Tactless or not, the invite is there, and Markus does intend to take him up on it.
First, though—]
I’m downstairs. Do you anything from the cafeteria before I head up?
[Already standing within the cafeteria, Markus' eyes flicker across the entrees being served, and he's pretty sure there's not going to be donburi here for Noctis. But there's some kind of parmesan crusted fish, and a whole refrigerated section of items that might qualify as desserts, so he deems the task easy enough to fulfill.]
I’ll see you in a few minutes.
[True to his word, Noctis doesn’t have to wait terribly long. The line was minimal at best, and Markus is in no mood to linger. It’s easy enough to find 303 and — his presence heralded by a light knock at the door before it opens — he steps in, carrying a thin plastic bag holding a bottle of water, the aforementioned fish in a styrofoam carry-out container, and a little plastic cup of jello with a clear lid, the contents jiggling blue inside.
As opposed to Noctis, Markus does seem to be sporting a few dramatic bruises on his face. They’ve swollen and begun to turn color since the young man saw him last, plastered along his jaw, and one of the height of a right cheekbone. His lip is still a mess, but at least he’s made an attempt to clean it — an injury that Noctis should at least recognize as nothing new.
He steps in, in that purposeful way that is trademark of an android and a man who is heinously sore, any other bruises or injuries well-hidden beneath clothing. The door shuts softly behind him, and he assesses Noctis (his face; all the scrapes and reddened skin), coupling it with a plain greeting—]
[ His eyes are shut when that knock comes but with how quickly they flutter open again it's clear that he wasn't sleeping. Accessing the internet instead, definitely, trying to get more information on the city's localized disaster and some kind of assessment of the damages. What a mess... and one he's not qualified to deal with at all. ]
Hey... [ Noctis starts cautiously, looking over at him with poorly hidden interest if there's any attempt to shield it at all. There are a number of bruises he can pick out that he suspects match the size of his own fists, trying not to wince while envisioning each blow. His eyes don't stay fixed on any one place long, avoidant as suits his more reserved personality but there's also a general lack of focus in enlarged pupils. ]
... they gave me pain killers. I mean, just if anything comes out a little wrong... [ There it is, another admission right out the gate just in case. It can only help to be upfront. ]
Maybe you should be on some too. You look seriously horrible.
[The half-glazed look of someone medicated. It's fair warning, but Markus knows what to expect. But whatever might spill from Noctis' mouth, it's going to be exceedingly hard to offend him today -- Markus is shielded by that wretched feeling of guilt, still clinging to him like his shadow. ]
I know. But it looks worse than it feels. [In which Markus takes liberties to stretch the truth.
He moves almost automatically, the way he gravitates towards what he assumes is the hospital bed tray on wheels, and removing the contents of his bag; setting the food down, along with plasticware, on top of the table's flat surface. He glides it over to where it slides neatly just above Noctis' lap, ready for him to eat.]
But I'm fine. Your face, though- [He pauses, frowning. Takes a moment to move to the other side of the bedside, settling into a chair.] Your head. Is it bothering you?
It almost never looks worse than it feels... [ In a mutter that he assumes is largely under his breath, but with his skewed perception right now it comes out hardly subtle.
He adjusts his weight with a wince so downplayed that it makes the strength of that medication apparent, scooting up higher in the bed to have a better chance of getting at that food with his good hand. Strong smell... but it'd been his own request, after all. ]
Ahh... well... yeah, obviously, you slammed it into the wall pretty hard. [ It's almost amazing just how nonplussed he can sound about it, as if they're discussing the weather. ] Geeze, you don't mess around... It'll heal up quick, though. Not a big deal.
What's wrong with my face, though? [ A short pause as he flicks open the styrofoam container, presented with his dish and a small fork packaged along with it. ] ... that's a joke.
[Don’t call him out like this, Noctis. Even if it is true, even if everything does, in fact, hurt.
The casual way that he speaks about Markus attempting to crack his skull open doesn’t do much in the way of feeling better about it. There’s nothing that will make him feel better about the idea of losing control of himself, even if outside influence had a play in making him act irrationally. More and more, stability seems like an illusion in New Amsterdam, and it’s harder to keep his feet planted to the ground when the whole world wants to turn upside-down.
Markus tries to sit up a little straighter.]
I know. [That it was a joke, he means. He’s not tone deaf to dry deliveries, even if humor seems to be drained of him right now. A beat passes between them.]
Noctis, I know I can’t undo whatever damage has already been done, but the things I said and did… I don’t want you to think that’s even close to indicative of who I am.
[Maybe it’s redundant. They all know that none of the affected were right of mind. But Markus has to say it, has to clarify.]
[ He segments off a piece of fish while Markus is talking, unsure of whether or not he's technically supposed to be eating right now when he may or may not end up anesthetized soon for that bullet's removal.
... whatever, he's popping that food into his mouth anyway, rules be damned. What difference does it make if he's super nauseated later when he's super hungry now? It's just trading one pain in the ass for another one. At least this one's alleviation involves fish. ]
... hm. [ It's... an unorthodox sort of apology. One that Noctis is in a unique position to understand.
Markus is a representative of his people, just like Noctis is. They both have important roles they have to play that go beyond their own selves and personalities, and with that kind of role comes an image. Is it weird that Markus would want to defend both himself as a person and as a symbol? No, not if what he's the face of is a whole group of individuals. ]
The stuff you said to me and what happened? I'm not gonna' give the details to anyone else. I didn't even tell Connor what you said, so... it's okay. I should probably be saying "sorry" too, huh.
[It would be wrong to say that his image means nothing here — Connor is here, and the weight of one android’s view of him, his expectations, is equal to that of thousands. There was no difference, not when he had to stand tall with his shoulders squared, ever pressing onward, looking forward. There’s so much about his future that he doesn’t know about, but Markus isn’t completely oblivious to what it might hold; he can feel the almost-reverence from the other every day, and it simultaneously feels bolstering and like a heavy stone weighted in his chest.
Even if he’s unaware of what Noctis knows of him, the last thing Markus ever wants to do is disappoint. To look weak, to act reckless, to hurt others.]
…Thank you. That’s for the best.
[What he said might hurt more than any physical damage done to Connor. Markus was almost surpirsed at how his own rhetoric could turn so cynical, so biting, in such a small window of time.]
It's not a big deal. [ Well... it is, but it isn't. He chews thoughtfully for a moment, trying to think of how best to word it. This isn't at all what he's good at but he needs the practice... ]
I mean... yeah, it's a big deal, but not for me to shut up. You didn't mean any of it, and it's not like you're gonna' forget without me making your life worse over it. Not when you won't even take pain pills because you feel bad. [ Because that feels really transparent to him, that instinct of his to self-punish. ]
I've got plenty to say sorry for. What I did... wasn't a good way to handle any of it. And I didn't help. [ The cup of jello's lifted to his mouth as he speaks, biting down on the plastic covering to try to tug it off. This is not dignified. ]
[Noctis once again surprises him with how strikingly perceptive he is, plucking out from Markus what he usually keeps quietly laid beneath the surface of his demeanor. He almost wants to argue about the pain pills, to reiterate that he doesn’t need them, but there’s no point. Noctis sees it for what it is.
It doesn’t mean he has to acknowledge it, though, and he reaches out with a hand to offer to help him with the jello, before bothering to continuing this line of conversation.]
Let me do that for you.
[The boy looks like a wild animal, and the plastic lid is protesting in the process of being removed.]
[Markus’ bruised and raw knuckles on display, the lid pops off with little difficulty. Despite himself, his lips twist, threatening to tilt into a tired smile. ]
Maybe the notion of ‘humanity’ is more of a universal trait than mankind itself realizes.
[It’s a very Markus thing to say.
He places the jello cup on Noctis’ tray, setting the lid down next to it.]
It’s strange of you to bring that up, though, just because I’m trying to stop you from looking ridiculous.
Sounds philosophical like that. [ In other words, probably over his head. ] I dunno... What else would you be applying it to? Animals? Daemons? Astrals? ... I guess here it's "gods" or something.
You're right though, I should obviously be trying to look my best right now. [ A joke right back as he readies his spoon, digging into the jello cup... which slides annoyingly around the tray with his force if he's not careful. This is just not the thing to eat with one hand. ]
What it means to be human... I've got some ideas, anyway.
Maa, maybe later. What I'm talking about is feeling guilty. [ Let's go there. ] I don't think animals really get into that like people do. Maybe they act like it when they're worried they'll get in trouble, but keeping yourself in pain is next level. It's just... human.
[Is this where we have to go? Markus invited it, in a way, but he had also made an obvious attempt to skate over the issue.
They’re not doing that, apparently.]
Is it really so surprising? That something other than human can possess a conscience, can reason, can feel emotion, empathy? And guilt, so closely tied to it. No species has complete ownership over any of these.
[That can be an exceedingly selfish way of thinking, but Markus doesn’t sound accusatory. Most wouldn’t even bother to think this deeply about it.]
[ No, they're not doing that. This is an important moment for you, man. ]
Yeah, it's surprising. If you don't get evidence of something, why would you assume it's there? Right? I'm not saying you don't feel it, anyway... I'm saying you do.
But you wanna' talk about the whole world and how it works instead of talking about you...
[It’s naive, he thinks. That showing evidence of emotion is always enough to convince humans of the legitimacy of that emotion. Markus wishes that it were so simple; things would be so different back home if it were.
But it seems that’s not the real point of this conversation.]
Are you wanting to talk about me, Noctis? Are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t feel the way I do?
Those are two really different questions. [ The jello is finally vanquished with another careful scrape at the sides, collecting all the last of it. Overly sweet, so it's perfect for him. ]
... I dunno. I don't think I'm really the person to tell anybody how to feel. But I'm part of the reason you feel bad so I wanna' hear about it.
[Markus returns his hand to his lap, and his fingers flex gently as he regards Noctis for a quiet moment. He still feel the uncomfortable tingling of raw skin at his knuckles, the dull pain a constant reminder of what he had done.
There’s a multitude of ways to reply to Noctis. Many of them couched in some variation of I’m fine or There’s no need to worry about me. Worry about yourself instead. Yet Markus owes the young man something more than that — after what he’s put him through, if this is what he wants to hear, then so be it.
A part of him thinks this would just be easier if he were mad at him.]
I hurt you, Noctis. It doesn’t get much more straightforward than that. I hurt people who wanted to help me, I hurt someone I’m supposed to protect, I lost patience, I started fights. I let myself fall into anger, when I’m supposed to be stronger than that. When that isn’t me — not the part of me that I want clawing itself to the surface like some... spurned monster.
I lost control. I’m not the sort of person that’s supposed to lose control.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Still hurting, and I look a little worse for wear. But that's to be expected.
Connor told me what happened. How's your shoulder?
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Shoulder's in one piece just like the bullet so ig I lucked out. I'm waiting to hear back on when they're gonna remove it or if they can or w/e. Did you get looked at?
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I've spoken with him. Things are fine now between us; I think we both understand that it wasn't the fault of either, and that we both said things that we didn't mean.
[But there's no point in going into detail.]
I don't need to be looked at; my injuries will heal on their own, it'll just take some time. I'm more worried about the two of you.
Do you mind if I visit?
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[ A solid, encouraging first response. ]
Sorry had to think about it. Not sure when the doctors are gonna bug me and this sounds like it'll be awkward but yeah we need to do it. If we get interrupted it's nbd.
I'm in 303.
[ His honesty may be tactless but maybe it's a fitting preface to what'll greet Markus when he heads to that room. His arm's heavily bandaged, wrapped tight to limit mobility and further supported by a cheap blue sling that he finds a little primitive compared to the eye-catching lights and advanced machinery otherwise outfitting the room. But it goes beyond his arm -- one whole side of his face is visibly scraped and reddened, and the dampness of his hair suggests it's been washed recently, whether to remove it of dirt, blood, or both.
The bruises are thankfully a little less dramatic and largely hidden by clothing, only sporting one or two on his face that might catch the eye and another on his wrist. ]
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First, though—]
I’m downstairs. Do you anything from the cafeteria before I head up?
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I’ll see you in a few minutes.
[True to his word, Noctis doesn’t have to wait terribly long. The line was minimal at best, and Markus is in no mood to linger. It’s easy enough to find 303 and — his presence heralded by a light knock at the door before it opens — he steps in, carrying a thin plastic bag holding a bottle of water, the aforementioned fish in a styrofoam carry-out container, and a little plastic cup of jello with a clear lid, the contents jiggling blue inside.
As opposed to Noctis, Markus does seem to be sporting a few dramatic bruises on his face. They’ve swollen and begun to turn color since the young man saw him last, plastered along his jaw, and one of the height of a right cheekbone. His lip is still a mess, but at least he’s made an attempt to clean it — an injury that Noctis should at least recognize as nothing new.
He steps in, in that purposeful way that is trademark of an android and a man who is heinously sore, any other bruises or injuries well-hidden beneath clothing. The door shuts softly behind him, and he assesses Noctis (his face; all the scrapes and reddened skin), coupling it with a plain greeting—]
Hey.
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Hey... [ Noctis starts cautiously, looking over at him with poorly hidden interest if there's any attempt to shield it at all. There are a number of bruises he can pick out that he suspects match the size of his own fists, trying not to wince while envisioning each blow. His eyes don't stay fixed on any one place long, avoidant as suits his more reserved personality but there's also a general lack of focus in enlarged pupils. ]
... they gave me pain killers. I mean, just if anything comes out a little wrong... [ There it is, another admission right out the gate just in case. It can only help to be upfront. ]
Maybe you should be on some too. You look seriously horrible.
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I know. But it looks worse than it feels. [In which Markus takes liberties to stretch the truth.
He moves almost automatically, the way he gravitates towards what he assumes is the hospital bed tray on wheels, and removing the contents of his bag; setting the food down, along with plasticware, on top of the table's flat surface. He glides it over to where it slides neatly just above Noctis' lap, ready for him to eat.]
But I'm fine. Your face, though- [He pauses, frowning. Takes a moment to move to the other side of the bedside, settling into a chair.] Your head. Is it bothering you?
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He adjusts his weight with a wince so downplayed that it makes the strength of that medication apparent, scooting up higher in the bed to have a better chance of getting at that food with his good hand. Strong smell... but it'd been his own request, after all. ]
Ahh... well... yeah, obviously, you slammed it into the wall pretty hard. [ It's almost amazing just how nonplussed he can sound about it, as if they're discussing the weather. ] Geeze, you don't mess around... It'll heal up quick, though. Not a big deal.
What's wrong with my face, though? [ A short pause as he flicks open the styrofoam container, presented with his dish and a small fork packaged along with it. ] ... that's a joke.
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The casual way that he speaks about Markus attempting to crack his skull open doesn’t do much in the way of feeling better about it. There’s nothing that will make him feel better about the idea of losing control of himself, even if outside influence had a play in making him act irrationally. More and more, stability seems like an illusion in New Amsterdam, and it’s harder to keep his feet planted to the ground when the whole world wants to turn upside-down.
Markus tries to sit up a little straighter.]
I know. [That it was a joke, he means. He’s not tone deaf to dry deliveries, even if humor seems to be drained of him right now. A beat passes between them.]
Noctis, I know I can’t undo whatever damage has already been done, but the things I said and did… I don’t want you to think that’s even close to indicative of who I am.
[Maybe it’s redundant. They all know that none of the affected were right of mind. But Markus has to say it, has to clarify.]
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... whatever, he's popping that food into his mouth anyway, rules be damned. What difference does it make if he's super nauseated later when he's super hungry now? It's just trading one pain in the ass for another one. At least this one's alleviation involves fish. ]
... hm. [ It's... an unorthodox sort of apology. One that Noctis is in a unique position to understand.
Markus is a representative of his people, just like Noctis is. They both have important roles they have to play that go beyond their own selves and personalities, and with that kind of role comes an image. Is it weird that Markus would want to defend both himself as a person and as a symbol? No, not if what he's the face of is a whole group of individuals. ]
The stuff you said to me and what happened? I'm not gonna' give the details to anyone else. I didn't even tell Connor what you said, so... it's okay. I should probably be saying "sorry" too, huh.
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Even if he’s unaware of what Noctis knows of him, the last thing Markus ever wants to do is disappoint. To look weak, to act reckless, to hurt others.]
…Thank you. That’s for the best.
[What he said might hurt more than any physical damage done to Connor. Markus was almost surpirsed at how his own rhetoric could turn so cynical, so biting, in such a small window of time.]
But what do you possibly have to apologize for?
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I mean... yeah, it's a big deal, but not for me to shut up. You didn't mean any of it, and it's not like you're gonna' forget without me making your life worse over it. Not when you won't even take pain pills because you feel bad. [ Because that feels really transparent to him, that instinct of his to self-punish. ]
I've got plenty to say sorry for. What I did... wasn't a good way to handle any of it. And I didn't help. [ The cup of jello's lifted to his mouth as he speaks, biting down on the plastic covering to try to tug it off. This is not dignified. ]
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It doesn’t mean he has to acknowledge it, though, and he reaches out with a hand to offer to help him with the jello, before bothering to continuing this line of conversation.]
Let me do that for you.
[The boy looks like a wild animal, and the plastic lid is protesting in the process of being removed.]
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Ah, sure. Thanks. [ And so it's passed over, main course still unfinished before he wants to go after the dessert. Typical. ]
... you guys sure are really human. Kinda' crazy to think of you being anything else.
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Maybe the notion of ‘humanity’ is more of a universal trait than mankind itself realizes.
[It’s a very Markus thing to say.
He places the jello cup on Noctis’ tray, setting the lid down next to it.]
It’s strange of you to bring that up, though, just because I’m trying to stop you from looking ridiculous.
[Maybe that was a joke, too.]
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You're right though, I should obviously be trying to look my best right now. [ A joke right back as he readies his spoon, digging into the jello cup... which slides annoyingly around the tray with his force if he's not careful. This is just not the thing to eat with one hand. ]
But I wasn't talking about the jello anyway.
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You’d have to define what it means to be human, first. A debate for the ages, but I’m sure you’re not—
[On instinct, he stretches out an arm to steady the jello cup with his hand, keeping it from sliding around when Noctis tries to dig in.]
—really in the mood for a philosophical discussion right now. So then tell me instead what it was you were referring to.
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What it means to be human... I've got some ideas, anyway.
Maa, maybe later. What I'm talking about is feeling guilty. [ Let's go there. ] I don't think animals really get into that like people do. Maybe they act like it when they're worried they'll get in trouble, but keeping yourself in pain is next level. It's just... human.
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They’re not doing that, apparently.]
Is it really so surprising? That something other than human can possess a conscience, can reason, can feel emotion, empathy? And guilt, so closely tied to it. No species has complete ownership over any of these.
[That can be an exceedingly selfish way of thinking, but Markus doesn’t sound accusatory. Most wouldn’t even bother to think this deeply about it.]
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Yeah, it's surprising. If you don't get evidence of something, why would you assume it's there? Right? I'm not saying you don't feel it, anyway... I'm saying you do.
But you wanna' talk about the whole world and how it works instead of talking about you...
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But it seems that’s not the real point of this conversation.]
Are you wanting to talk about me, Noctis? Are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t feel the way I do?
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Those are two really different questions. [ The jello is finally vanquished with another careful scrape at the sides, collecting all the last of it. Overly sweet, so it's perfect for him. ]
... I dunno. I don't think I'm really the person to tell anybody how to feel. But I'm part of the reason you feel bad so I wanna' hear about it.
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There’s a multitude of ways to reply to Noctis. Many of them couched in some variation of I’m fine or There’s no need to worry about me. Worry about yourself instead. Yet Markus owes the young man something more than that — after what he’s put him through, if this is what he wants to hear, then so be it.
A part of him thinks this would just be easier if he were mad at him.]
I hurt you, Noctis. It doesn’t get much more straightforward than that. I hurt people who wanted to help me, I hurt someone I’m supposed to protect, I lost patience, I started fights. I let myself fall into anger, when I’m supposed to be stronger than that. When that isn’t me — not the part of me that I want clawing itself to the surface like some... spurned monster.
I lost control. I’m not the sort of person that’s supposed to lose control.
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