( it's not that he doesn't find her attractive — the opposite, in fact. (he's not blind.) but marc spector is awkward. difficult. he's had a lot of practise in making himself unavailable and off-putting, at emphasising his worse traits and refusing to acknowledge anything else.
on a mission in symkaria, one of the few times he'd managed to pull himself together long enough to be an avenger, he'd commented that he'd spent time in the worst places in the world with the worst people in the world, and he still holds that true. not all of them had been like bushman, some of them had been quiet in their cruelty. raoul, though, raoul had been brutal and marc had turned a blind eye. he'd ignored jean-paul telling him that signing up with his crew was a bad idea, ignored his own gut when it'd said that he'd fucked up (again). he'd ignored, too, the first time he'd seen raoul with his metal teeth, sinking them into another man's flesh just to prove a point.
(he'd said something about fear, and marc had just shrugged.)
natasha's scars are a story in and of themselves, but it's not his place to ask what. not now, at least.
he barely notices the way she leverages her agreement with getting a closer look at him, the oddest game of I'll show you mine if you show me yours. his gaze does shift, sharply and suddenly, when she traces her fingertips over a bruise. it's only fleeting, focus moving back to her arm with an inelegant grunt in answer to her question. today, yesterday, most days. )
I've got wipes and bandages. Not much more than that, but you don't need much more than that.
no subject
on a mission in symkaria, one of the few times he'd managed to pull himself together long enough to be an avenger, he'd commented that he'd spent time in the worst places in the world with the worst people in the world, and he still holds that true. not all of them had been like bushman, some of them had been quiet in their cruelty. raoul, though, raoul had been brutal and marc had turned a blind eye. he'd ignored jean-paul telling him that signing up with his crew was a bad idea, ignored his own gut when it'd said that he'd fucked up (again). he'd ignored, too, the first time he'd seen raoul with his metal teeth, sinking them into another man's flesh just to prove a point.
(he'd said something about fear, and marc had just shrugged.)
natasha's scars are a story in and of themselves, but it's not his place to ask what. not now, at least.
he barely notices the way she leverages her agreement with getting a closer look at him, the oddest game of I'll show you mine if you show me yours. his gaze does shift, sharply and suddenly, when she traces her fingertips over a bruise. it's only fleeting, focus moving back to her arm with an inelegant grunt in answer to her question. today, yesterday, most days. )
I've got wipes and bandages. Not much more than that, but you don't need much more than that.