hasaknightjob | Semi-Secluded Park Bench, Monday afternoon

Marc couldn't be in the apartment, was the thing.

He didn't want to be anywhere. Marc Spector had solid method to his coping mechanisms and they all boiled down to one concept: just don't. Don't be there. Don't deal.

Only running away wasn't an option because Marc had to consider Steven. And handing the body over to Steven was definitely not an option because as bad as this week was for Marc for Steven it was going to be a thousand times worse.

No prize for guessing if that was Marc's fault, of course.

The Steven of it all was why the apartment was a no go. Too much there that was Steven, too much that was personal. Marc was trying not to deal with memories, thank you, he didn't need help with the reminders.

So he went somewhere that meant nothing to him, which was a quiet bench in the park. And he went there with his last option for coping mechanisms, which was currently contained in a paper bag wrapped bottle at his side.

Maybe if he was lucky he and Steven wouldn't wake up until Sunday.

[For thems who know who they are. Warning for potential sensitive topics in addition to the unhealthy use of alcohol. More specific warnings will go up as needed. Safe for broadcast unless otherwise noted.]

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From:

stykera

Stark had begun his day with ice cream and chocolate (after the screaming sun) and then had his usual sugary coffee but eventually he'd decided he needed both to move around a little and to get something more substantial to eat. So he'd left the clinic briefly for a little wander around the park while waiting for food to be ready to pick up. Which was when he spotted a familiar face.

"Are you alright?" That probably wasn't the right question.

From:

hasaknightjob

It had worked so well with Liz - or had it? Admittedly memory of that conversation was fuzzy now. Anyway, no harm trying it one more time. "It's fine."

Nope, still not an answer to that question.

From:

stykera

"You don't look fine," Stark said gently. "I look that way often myself."

From:

hasaknightjob

"You feel like shit too?" Marc asked, which turned out to be a great way to get the answer to Stark's original question.

From:

stykera

"I feel fine today. Not always."

Stark was fairly well- adjusted at the moment. He really wasn't sometimes.

"Did something happen?"

From:

hasaknightjob

"It's Monday," Marc told him, as though that was an answer. Which, in fairness, it was but not without more information.

Reminded, Marc took another drink.

From:

stykera

"Ye-es," Stark said, drawing out the word with a slightly confused expression. "That usually happens after the weekend."

From:

hasaknightjob

"Exactly," Marc said, as though Stark had proved his point. Then Marc realized there was a problem with this conclusion. "Did we have a weekend?"

From:

stykera

"We did," Stark confirmed, frowning in concern. "A quiet one, as far as I know. Nothing of note. Do you need help, Marc?"

From:

hasaknightjob

Marc didn't remember the weekend. "Did I do anything? Did Steven?"

Why Marc thought Stark would know the answer to this question was anybody's guess.

From:

stykera

"I didn't see either of you this weekend," Stark said, still frowning. "Did you think you did something?"

From:

hasaknightjob

Marc searched his memory. This was not helped by drinking on an empty stomach. "Maybe Steven was hanging out with the boyfriend."

Steven had not been hanging out with the boyfriend. Not after lunch on Friday anyway.

Marc stared ahead, his thoughts going on their own wandering path. "What do you guys do, anyway?"

There'd be enough context for that to make sense to Stark eventually, really.

From:

stykera

"They might have been together," Stark agreed.

"What do who do? Me? When?"

At least Stark was used to people not making sense. Stark often did not make sense himself, except to himself.

From:

hasaknightjob

"When someone dies," Marc said. He looked at Stark curiously. "Is there a thing for that?"

From:

stykera

"It depends on who," Stark said, still frowning. "Scarrans had their rituals. I had to participate in more of those than anything else. Someone else, someone I wanted to help, there are prayers. Zhaan taught me others. If I know what they might want, what deities they would wish to speak to, I try to say those prayers. If I don't I say my own. I've said so many. I get them confused, sometimes. It's easy to do, getting confused."

"Why do you ask?" He was getting an idea, certainly, but it also seemed like it might be helpful to Marc if he spoke.

From:

hasaknightjob

Boy did Marc give a knowing nod at "getting confused." He sure as hell knew that one, even if he didn't have alcohol currently making his thoughts wander more than usual.

"What happens if you don't do it?" Marc asked. He wasn't looking at anything in particular so it was possible he was asking the universe as much as he was Stark. Though he did follow it with a vague gesture and say, "The - prayers."

From:

stykera

"They aren't necessary. But I...I feel better, if I say something. I said so many to Zhaan's Goddess. It's more important to help them cross over, if I can do that. If I'm not there...if I'm too late or if they don't want help, then the prayers are all I can do. Sometimes I can barely manage that."

You didn't want to hear about the time he felt 10,000 of his people die and blamed himself, right Marc? You had problems of your own.

From:

hasaknightjob

Please. Marc would love a distraction right now. Too bad this wasn't a day of him getting what he wanted, other than another drink from his bottle since at least it wasn't empty yet.

"Couldn't do it," Marc said, shaking his head. He made another gesture to indicate what Stark had just described. "Any of it. Couldn't do it."

From:

stykera

"It's never too late for prayers," Stark said quietly. "Even if you aren't sure they'll be heard. I could say some for you, if you like? I know enough. Not yours, I'm sure, but others."

"And you don't have to say them. If you don't want to. Do...do you want to tell me about it?"

From:

hasaknightjob

Marc shook his head, the motion more wobbly than it normally would be. "No. Not from me. Not for me. Not doing that. Not giving that satisfaction. Nope."

From:

stykera

"That's fine," Stark said soothingly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "You don't have to. We won't. I won't. But...what happened? Who died?"

From:

hasaknightjob

That question made Marc's awareness tilt like he'd been shoved sideways. He immediately took another drink. Alcohol wasn't going to be great for his balance in general but at this second he needed the burning sensation as it went down to help ground him in the body.

"Nobody," Marc said, because Stark was a friend and Marc still had awareness enough to realize he should probably clarify nobody had died right that second. Of course once he'd put it that way, it was natural to continue with, "That's what it was supposed to be. Steven - he was fine. Supposed to be nobody. Everything is perfect, and fine, and happy."

From:

stykera

"Then who are we not saying prayers for?" Stark asked. "You don't have to tell me. But maybe you should? I don't know. It helps to talk, sometimes. But sometimes I do it too much. Did something happen?" Obviously something had. Stark just wasn't sure what.

He would have heard if something had happened to Steven, wouldn't he? And Marc wouldn't be dancing around that so much.

From:

hasaknightjob

"Not happen," Marc said. Personally Marc felt it never helped to talk. Unfortunately this was something he was better able to avoid when he was sober. "Already happened. But stuff keeps coming up and - I don't want to do it. I'm not. Fuck - fuck all of it. But Steven's going to - I know he wants to and - and he shouldn't even know. He wasn't supposed to know."

Marc rubbed his eyes but ignore that. Clearly dust or allergens in the air.