[Comes the message, composed on impulse by his own mind and sent out almost immediately. Markus frowns, shaking his head, but already getting up to gather the needed supplies.]
you know what they say, markus: if no one will give you answers you've gotta cut them out yourself
( literally no one says that. but whatever. jason's got a shitty, worm-based chilli dog in hand as he leans up against one of the walls a few blocks south of the safe house's exit, a bit of blood staining the tank top right over his sternum, but. he doesn't seem too concerned over it. )
[Markus approaches with a messenger bag slung over one shoulder, and Jason is easy enough to spot. Eyes are drawn the spotting of blood on his shirt, and he won’t hide the way it summons up a frown. He stops, looking at him, ignoring the food.]
No one says that.
[—his delayed yet very important response to Jason’s last text.]
( the stupid, smarmy grin on his lips speaks volumes. he raises a hand out to markus, clasps it over his shoulder in greeting before leaning a good amount of his heft into it, offering up the chilli dog. )
[He grin doesn't bother him (he nearly expects it at this point), and Markus doesn't mind the sensation of a hand clasping at his shoulder. Not even the way Jason leans in and offers him his food as if this were some friendly outing.]
No. I already ate.
[Not untrue, but also a dismissive handful of words, his tone clear: he's here to stitch you up, "Matches", and he's going to tend to that first.]
You might want to find a place to sit down. I didn't walk all this way to watch you eat a chili dog.
( heels pressing down into the cement before jason lowers the pressure and lets himself sslide down to the ground, sets the chilli dog down on it's napkin beside him. )
I hope you didn’t think I wouldn’t. After hearing of you potentially undoing all of my hard work.
[A dry comment, but not enough to veil concern. Easy enough to crouch down and unzip his bag, reaching in to gather what’s needed, eyes flicking to Jason—]
( it's easy enough to lean forward, pull the tank top off over his head. there's a fresh pad of gauze in the center of his chest--a new wound, but the ones markus handled previously all look well taken care of. a few stitches towards the top have torn through the skin they were threaded through, broken enough to cause blood to leak out onto the gauze.
[When he's ready to remove the broken throws of stitches, he's eying the state of Jason's body, and the sutures that need tending to all over again are more than obvious. Shifting his weight so that he's more comfortable perched on the ground, Markus begins first to carefully remove the broken ones with tweezers, one by one. A faint tug and a pull on Jason's skin, maybe a little sore due to the eking of the wound, but nothing overtly painful -- antiseptic will be next on the docket when Markus gets around to it.]
I'm not so sure of that. Looks like you're already working on it.
[This should be a familiar sight: Markus focused on his work, not looking up at Jason as he speaks.]
...So you really did open up your own chest and found, what, nothing?
( painful, sure. should he be moving? probably not. but here jason is anyway. fingers tap idly against the cement ground as markus gets to work, eyes focused down on the other's face even if he's busy looking to his handiwork. it's bleeding, yes. probably enough to be concerning if jason had decided to keep on moving--thus, the call. it's not pleasant when markus starts pulling at him, but it's not the worst shit he's ever experienced.
so there's no complaints. he asked for this. )
No hardware, unless it's been drilled down into the bone. Obviously, I ain't cutting my own bones to bit to find out.
[Please don’t cut into your own bones, Jason. There’s risk involved in obtaining crucial information about what happened to them — Markus understands that. He knows that sometimes doing bold, dangerous things is simply the requirement for unraveling certain mysteries, or inciting certain modes of change. But there’s a line drawn into the ground that, if one crosses, tosses them into “reckless” territory.
Markus doesn’t want to the consequence of that happen to Jason. To anyone he knows.
The removal of the broken stitches isn’t something the man has to sit through for very long, at least. They slip through skin with relative ease after the initial tug, and soon after Markus is applying that telltale, cool sting of antiseptic, simultaneously mopping up any excess bleeding with an extra cloth.]
It could be installed even deeper. ( idly, eyes turning down to look over his chest. he could have probably done it himself if he kept equipment handy. but this also gives him an excuse to chat with markus, figure out what's going on with him. they're all stuck in this together, information sharing isn't the worst possible idea. instincts tell him that markus is, genuinely, a decent dude.
which means he'll be able to get to shit on the side of the law jason can't. )
Or it's magic in nature, which is probably the more accurate theory.
Magic. [He huffs out the word like it were a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit into the equation.] Well. Why not?
[Blood cleaned well enough, it’s time to prepare the needle and thread, his motions automatic and as complete as before.]
We live in a sci-fi novel, why not twist it into a fantasy one as well? [The quirk of his lips upward, but humor is a decidedly lacking thing.] I forget that the concept is more... real in other worlds than it is in mine.
Back where I come from, they've always been mixed together. Hell, shit turns from sci-fi to fantasy to mythological in moments.
( spoken low, as to not jostle his chest too much as markus works. jason does have the tendency to get--loud. boisterous. that's not going to help when someone's getting ready to shove needles and threads into him. )
Magicians, telekinetic aliens, Martians, Gods, everything. Every time you think you've finally figured shit it, something else comes up and throws it all off. You get used to it.
[Ironically, the most that might fall under the category of ‘fanatical’ in Markus’ version of Detroit were the prevalence of highly advanced androids. For reasons that don’t need to be reiterated, this is just baseline normal for someone like him. For anyone who might originate from his world.
So what Jason says, all this about aliens and magic and gods, has his imagination kicking up into gear, twisted up in the feeling of disbelief. In the interim, the needle pricks and works into his skin, dutifully closing up what had been broken prior.
Boisterous as his “patient” might be, Markus is a calm, collected quiet. His words sound contemplative.]
I guess I’m not surprised. After what you told me.
[Coming back to life. Magic, indeed — or something like it.]
So— ‘you get used to it’. A situation like his, rife with inter-dimensional kidnapping, are you used to it? Why not take a moment to relax and stop cutting into your sternum, if that’s the case? Just a suggestion.
( his intentions of remaining still are momentarily ruined as jason tilts his head back, barks out ugly, heaving laughter in response. he gets markus' intention behind what he's saying. but it still doesn't make the words funny as shit. god. how cute. color him infatuated, markus is so fucking. hell if he knows the right word for this. )
You get used to that too, Markus. ( voice a little softer once he's gotten the chance to calm himself down. teasing, ) I can't remember the last time I didn't at least have a few bruises.
( it's. not a lie. between training, testing himself, all the goddamn fights jason gets himself into--a few surgical cuts isn't going to make a difference. bodies heal. and this was better to get out of the way earlier than later, considering where he intends to start exploring once he is in one piece again. )
'sides. Gives you an excuse to feel me up, doesn't it?
( jason doesn't imagine that's it at all, but he has to poke a little fun. )
[He has to still his movements when Jason grants him a laugh. Is patient enough to do so, at least, though it gains him A Look.]
You're right. That's exactly why I'm doing this, Matches. Because I want to 'feel up' blood and broken skin as I stitch you back together.
[He'd have to be deaf to miss that edge of sarcasm, good-natured as it is.]
Stay still. I'm not done yet. [Waiting for Jason to do just that, he'll continue.] So what is it you do, exactly, back home? If you had to put a label to it?
Demanding. ( but he stills fast enough. relaxes back against the wall, lets markus get back to work. clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, considers how exactly he wants to respond to that question )
Ask anyone in the underground, I was a crimelord. ( overtook numerous drug rings and instilled his own set of rules into them. fucked with suzie su's shit, black mask's. . ) So, that.
[A crime lord. Now there’s an admission rarely heard, or not at all. But the phrasing doesn’t escape his notice, and Markus deems it as an unsatisfactory answer, trying again.]
I’m not asking them. I’m asking you.
[One final throw of a stitch, and then he’s snipping away the excess thread. He’s done for now, as long as Jason doesn’t undo his work again in the next hour.]
( markus catches onto the small details and jason hasn't decided yet if he likes it or not. lying is easy. but pointless, here. especially when markus has proven to be a good ally to have at his back. the kind of overly helpful nerd who shows up at the drop of a hat when someone asks for help.
and he's hot. that helps, too.
the association with damian and dick is what worries him. they can't hide that shit for long. damian hasn't been secretive. )
I take down assholes who think they're better than others. ( that's. one way to word it. ) 'cause there's nothing I hate more than overgrown egos.
[Overly helpful nerd. Is Jason already onto the fact that Markus is harboring a hidden nerd deep within the confines of his soul? Parody or not, maybe he’s not too far off the mark, despite (or in tandem with?) his demeanor.
Sometimes being handsome helps, though. Even if Markus would never really be so vain to ascribe it so blatantly to himself.]
...I remember what you told me. That day when the sickness had taken over my rational thought.
[His hands work automatically again, this time taking on the simple task of cleaning up any residual blood still clinging to Jason’s skin.]
Asking me if I was a person like that. The sort that took pleasure in taking advantage over the weak, looking at me as if I might’ve been a problem that needed dealing with.
[It’s not an attempt at guilting him. It’s only Markus’ sharp recollection of the event. ]
You’re idealistic; so am I. But you see it through in a way that I can’t.
( ah. jason remembers that, too. he'd been pissed at himself, enough to encourage markus to take it out on him. felt a little better, too: getting fists slammed into his face, encouraging markus to keep it up before they went their separate ways. bitched him out until he got a name from those lips. )
I was idealistic, at one point. ( a slight correction. he could get up and leave now, markus has patched him up enough. the dried bits don't matter much to him at all, but--jason's letting markus continue. breathes in deep. )
But I started from the bottom, Markus. You, you've got a light behind your eyes, ( like dick does. that goes without saying. ) you had shit and lost it. I started with nothing, got more nothing, then was handed fucking everything on a silver platter--only to lose it all again. Believing in crap is stupid, trying is fucking stupid, you're never gonna be able to fix everything. Hell, fixing one tiny goddamn thing is hard as hell.
( recent conversations have. brought up some shit, now markus has to deal with it. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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nothing terrible
except i ran into someone unexpected and pulled some open a bit too far
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You want to come here again, or do you need me to meet you elsewhere?
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the answer's no, by the way
no need to go digging around in there yourself
few blocks south of the safehouse?
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[Comes the message, composed on impulse by his own mind and sent out almost immediately. Markus frowns, shaking his head, but already getting up to gather the needed supplies.]
I’m leaving the meet you there now.
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if no one will give you answers you've gotta cut them out yourself
( literally no one says that. but whatever. jason's got a shitty, worm-based chilli dog in hand as he leans up against one of the walls a few blocks south of the safe house's exit, a bit of blood staining the tank top right over his sternum, but. he doesn't seem too concerned over it. )
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No one says that.
[—his delayed yet very important response to Jason’s last text.]
You really need to be more careful.
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( the stupid, smarmy grin on his lips speaks volumes. he raises a hand out to markus, clasps it over his shoulder in greeting before leaning a good amount of his heft into it, offering up the chilli dog. )
Want some? I'll share.
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No. I already ate.
[Not untrue, but also a dismissive handful of words, his tone clear: he's here to stitch you up, "Matches", and he's going to tend to that first.]
You might want to find a place to sit down. I didn't walk all this way to watch you eat a chili dog.
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( heels pressing down into the cement before jason lowers the pressure and lets himself sslide down to the ground, sets the chilli dog down on it's napkin beside him. )
I appreciate you coming, you're a true bro.
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[A dry comment, but not enough to veil concern. Easy enough to crouch down and unzip his bag, reaching in to gather what’s needed, eyes flicking to Jason—]
Let’s see the damage first.
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and jason's tearing that off, too. )
I wouldn't do that. Not after our heart-to-heart.
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I'm not so sure of that. Looks like you're already working on it.
[This should be a familiar sight: Markus focused on his work, not looking up at Jason as he speaks.]
...So you really did open up your own chest and found, what, nothing?
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( painful, sure. should he be moving? probably not. but here jason is anyway. fingers tap idly against the cement ground as markus gets to work, eyes focused down on the other's face even if he's busy looking to his handiwork. it's bleeding, yes. probably enough to be concerning if jason had decided to keep on moving--thus, the call. it's not pleasant when markus starts pulling at him, but it's not the worst shit he's ever experienced.
so there's no complaints. he asked for this. )
No hardware, unless it's been drilled down into the bone. Obviously, I ain't cutting my own bones to bit to find out.
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[Please don’t cut into your own bones, Jason. There’s risk involved in obtaining crucial information about what happened to them — Markus understands that. He knows that sometimes doing bold, dangerous things is simply the requirement for unraveling certain mysteries, or inciting certain modes of change. But there’s a line drawn into the ground that, if one crosses, tosses them into “reckless” territory.
Markus doesn’t want to the consequence of that happen to Jason. To anyone he knows.
The removal of the broken stitches isn’t something the man has to sit through for very long, at least. They slip through skin with relative ease after the initial tug, and soon after Markus is applying that telltale, cool sting of antiseptic, simultaneously mopping up any excess bleeding with an extra cloth.]
So if it’s not hardware, then what? Any theories?
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which means he'll be able to get to shit on the side of the law jason can't. )
Or it's magic in nature, which is probably the more accurate theory.
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[Blood cleaned well enough, it’s time to prepare the needle and thread, his motions automatic and as complete as before.]
We live in a sci-fi novel, why not twist it into a fantasy one as well? [The quirk of his lips upward, but humor is a decidedly lacking thing.] I forget that the concept is more... real in other worlds than it is in mine.
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( spoken low, as to not jostle his chest too much as markus works. jason does have the tendency to get--loud. boisterous. that's not going to help when someone's getting ready to shove needles and threads into him. )
Magicians, telekinetic aliens, Martians, Gods, everything. Every time you think you've finally figured shit it, something else comes up and throws it all off. You get used to it.
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So what Jason says, all this about aliens and magic and gods, has his imagination kicking up into gear, twisted up in the feeling of disbelief. In the interim, the needle pricks and works into his skin, dutifully closing up what had been broken prior.
Boisterous as his “patient” might be, Markus is a calm, collected quiet. His words sound contemplative.]
I guess I’m not surprised. After what you told me.
[Coming back to life. Magic, indeed — or something like it.]
So— ‘you get used to it’. A situation like his, rife with inter-dimensional kidnapping, are you used to it? Why not take a moment to relax and stop cutting into your sternum, if that’s the case? Just a suggestion.
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You get used to that too, Markus. ( voice a little softer once he's gotten the chance to calm himself down. teasing, ) I can't remember the last time I didn't at least have a few bruises.
( it's. not a lie. between training, testing himself, all the goddamn fights jason gets himself into--a few surgical cuts isn't going to make a difference. bodies heal. and this was better to get out of the way earlier than later, considering where he intends to start exploring once he is in one piece again. )
'sides. Gives you an excuse to feel me up, doesn't it?
( jason doesn't imagine that's it at all, but he has to poke a little fun. )
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You're right. That's exactly why I'm doing this, Matches. Because I want to 'feel up' blood and broken skin as I stitch you back together.
[He'd have to be deaf to miss that edge of sarcasm, good-natured as it is.]
Stay still. I'm not done yet. [Waiting for Jason to do just that, he'll continue.] So what is it you do, exactly, back home? If you had to put a label to it?
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Ask anyone in the underground, I was a crimelord. ( overtook numerous drug rings and instilled his own set of rules into them. fucked with suzie su's shit, black mask's. . ) So, that.
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I’m not asking them. I’m asking you.
[One final throw of a stitch, and then he’s snipping away the excess thread. He’s done for now, as long as Jason doesn’t undo his work again in the next hour.]
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and he's hot. that helps, too.
the association with damian and dick is what worries him. they can't hide that shit for long. damian hasn't been secretive. )
I take down assholes who think they're better than others. ( that's. one way to word it. ) 'cause there's nothing I hate more than overgrown egos.
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Sometimes being handsome helps, though. Even if Markus would never really be so vain to ascribe it so blatantly to himself.]
...I remember what you told me. That day when the sickness had taken over my rational thought.
[His hands work automatically again, this time taking on the simple task of cleaning up any residual blood still clinging to Jason’s skin.]
Asking me if I was a person like that. The sort that took pleasure in taking advantage over the weak, looking at me as if I might’ve been a problem that needed dealing with.
[It’s not an attempt at guilting him. It’s only Markus’ sharp recollection of the event. ]
You’re idealistic; so am I. But you see it through in a way that I can’t.
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I was idealistic, at one point. ( a slight correction. he could get up and leave now, markus has patched him up enough. the dried bits don't matter much to him at all, but--jason's letting markus continue. breathes in deep. )
But I started from the bottom, Markus. You, you've got a light behind your eyes, ( like dick does. that goes without saying. ) you had shit and lost it. I started with nothing, got more nothing, then was handed fucking everything on a silver platter--only to lose it all again. Believing in crap is stupid, trying is fucking stupid, you're never gonna be able to fix everything. Hell, fixing one tiny goddamn thing is hard as hell.
( recent conversations have. brought up some shit, now markus has to deal with it. )
But we try anyway, right?
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