(I don't think it's a person, she says, her gaze fixated on the person she'd walked into, and for a very short, fleeting moment, marc thinks 'yes, it is a person' before realising she means the cause of their situation, and he's very glad he didn't choose to vocalise that particular thought. his expression, though, shifts quickly from bemusement to realisation to relief, then back to cautious, wary bemusement when she explains that 'stuff like this just happens'.
he shouldn't be surprised, he thinks. he shouldn't have questions because this kind of thing isn't exactly outside of the realms of possibility in his life in general, but it's still not the sort of thing he deals with on a day-to-day basis. this is more of a stephen strange kind of deal, or — avengers? (or, as he's already considered, none of this is real).
he looks back to the whatever lottie had walked into, not exactly fading in the distance as they walk, but it's there, distantly, punctuated by one of the many still bodies of people not like them. he presses his lips together momentarily, redirects his gaze to lottie, attention caught by the sudden, slightly frantic movement of her rubbing her head.
where their footsteps had seemed loud, her voice seems louder still. shrill in the silence and startling, and marc winces, just briefly. )
We didn't see it because we weren't supposed to see it, ( he tells her. it's less a suggestion, less a 'maybe'. it's an assumption presented as fact because marc isn't sure what the alternative would be, can't think of any other explanation. he contemplates telling her about morpheus, about ebon energy and hallucinations but decides, swiftly, that he'll come back to that. once they know a little more. ) Whatever it is, it's probably confined to a geographical location. ( a beat, a glance. ) As the coffee shop was fine, ( he adds, by way of reasoning. ) If we keep walking, we'll exit out the other side. (hopefully, he doesn't add, as there's a flicker of movement at the corner of his eyes that's definitely not lottie.
no subject
he shouldn't be surprised, he thinks. he shouldn't have questions because this kind of thing isn't exactly outside of the realms of possibility in his life in general, but it's still not the sort of thing he deals with on a day-to-day basis. this is more of a stephen strange kind of deal, or — avengers? (or, as he's already considered, none of this is real).
he looks back to the whatever lottie had walked into, not exactly fading in the distance as they walk, but it's there, distantly, punctuated by one of the many still bodies of people not like them. he presses his lips together momentarily, redirects his gaze to lottie, attention caught by the sudden, slightly frantic movement of her rubbing her head.
where their footsteps had seemed loud, her voice seems louder still. shrill in the silence and startling, and marc winces, just briefly. )
We didn't see it because we weren't supposed to see it, ( he tells her. it's less a suggestion, less a 'maybe'. it's an assumption presented as fact because marc isn't sure what the alternative would be, can't think of any other explanation. he contemplates telling her about morpheus, about ebon energy and hallucinations but decides, swiftly, that he'll come back to that. once they know a little more. ) Whatever it is, it's probably confined to a geographical location. ( a beat, a glance. ) As the coffee shop was fine, ( he adds, by way of reasoning. ) If we keep walking, we'll exit out the other side. ( hopefully, he doesn't add, as there's a flicker of movement at the corner of his eyes that's definitely not lottie.
(hmm—.) )