[Possessing a calm demeanor, soft-spoken and patient, it would be easy enough to school his face into something difficult to read — easier still having that leftover inclination as an android to fall back into placid mannerisms and expression.

But Markus holds no such inclination. Fitz would have little problem seeing those tells flit across his face, dancing there even if they don’t completely settle into something solid. The smallest cinch of his brows, for instance—]

There are millions of us. Androids are a very common sight where I’m from.

[—and the tug of a frown. Something pulling at his core by default, that question both simple but loaded.

For now, his eyes are kept on the path, though his profile is easily lit.]

And yes. Designed with purposes in mind, tailored to aid humans, but not all of them adhere to that path. [He pauses, then continues, assuming that the next question might be centered around what he was created to do.]

I was made to be a friend and caretaker of an elderly artist, for instance.