[ Before he can really process what she's said — the way she's brought both their hands up to pat him, everything she's detailed, isn't he simply Mark — he answers that last question; an automatic, forceful response within seconds. As if she wasn't making a point, as if it was a real question that needed to be answered — and maybe, judging by how he'd zeroed in on it immediately, it was.
Mark had sat bolt upright at that, staring at Hella with wide, disbelieving eyes; at least until her words really settle in. As he really understands what she's saying, and then Mark's gaze dips to their hands, embarrassed. To a patch of grass, more embarrassed. His skin is a bit paler now with the onset of infection — that his body is working to fight off, he reminds himself, it has to be — but there is that flush of colour as a result.
He holds it for a moment before looking back up at her, wary. ]
I know I get to choose who to be every day. [ Did he? Maybe he does now that she's said it. ] It's just... what if I choose wrong? I, ahhh. I killed someone just before I was brought here. I had to, but I still lost control, and I did it. And the zombies back at the hospital... They were people too, and I still killed a bunch of them.
[ He stares at his hands, shuts his eyes. Nope. Bad idea; he's used those to kill. ]
I don't think I get to be just "Mark". Not with what I can do. And lately it's just... all the wrong things. [ Opens his eyes again. Meets Hella's gaze again, pleading, like she knows exactly how to get past all of this. ] I think I'm more terrified of that than anything else.
no subject
[ Before he can really process what she's said — the way she's brought both their hands up to pat him, everything she's detailed, isn't he simply Mark — he answers that last question; an automatic, forceful response within seconds. As if she wasn't making a point, as if it was a real question that needed to be answered — and maybe, judging by how he'd zeroed in on it immediately, it was.
Mark had sat bolt upright at that, staring at Hella with wide, disbelieving eyes; at least until her words really settle in. As he really understands what she's saying, and then Mark's gaze dips to their hands, embarrassed. To a patch of grass, more embarrassed. His skin is a bit paler now with the onset of infection — that his body is working to fight off, he reminds himself, it has to be — but there is that flush of colour as a result.
He holds it for a moment before looking back up at her, wary. ]
I know I get to choose who to be every day. [ Did he? Maybe he does now that she's said it. ] It's just... what if I choose wrong? I, ahhh. I killed someone just before I was brought here. I had to, but I still lost control, and I did it. And the zombies back at the hospital... They were people too, and I still killed a bunch of them.
[ He stares at his hands, shuts his eyes. Nope. Bad idea; he's used those to kill. ]
I don't think I get to be just "Mark". Not with what I can do. And lately it's just... all the wrong things. [ Opens his eyes again. Meets Hella's gaze again, pleading, like she knows exactly how to get past all of this. ] I think I'm more terrified of that than anything else.