Tim as CEO. Marcus smiles, can’t help feeling fond warmth kindle in his belly. Yeah, makes sense. He watches Alfred search, a little wary of what he’s looking for. Wary, too, of the question. He has to take a few moments to work out what he wants to say.
“It’s...that’s the only thing we’ve fought about, you know. He wants me to let him in on more cases. I don’t know what I’d do if he got hurt. But.” Marcus bites his lip, then grimaces. “I dunno. Been thinking about it a lot, and maybe I shouldn’t act like he’s fragile. Or like I — like I’m not.” This last comes with a scared sort laugh. He doesn’t know if he’s making sense. Some of this he’s only understanding as he says it, after hearing Bruce and Damian below. If he sees the threads he pulls them, he can’t help himself — it’s cruel, it’s patronising, it comes from a place of love and care and that makes it worse. He doesn’t want to be one more bastard with an overdeveloped conscience saying I know best and then running off alone into the danger he’s forbidden Tim from approaching.
“He wasn’t — when I met him he was choking. Slowly. Slow enough to know exactly what was happening to him. And I know the answer to that ain’t to pull him into more danger, but doing nothing wasn’t ever an option. Me and Tim, we’re pretty similar in some ways, believe it or not. Both of us need to be doing things. We don’t trust complacency...when something’s easy, we get suspicious. Start wondering what we’ve missed, or what we’re doing wrong, or whether we deserve any peace. So.
“So we’re trying to find some place between us, something that’s safe, safe-ish, but — happy. For both of us.” He scuffs his toe against the floorboards, scoffs. He’s not looking at Alfred. “Stop both of us from feeling like safe and happy are opposites. ...Work in progress.”
no subject
“It’s...that’s the only thing we’ve fought about, you know. He wants me to let him in on more cases. I don’t know what I’d do if he got hurt. But.” Marcus bites his lip, then grimaces. “I dunno. Been thinking about it a lot, and maybe I shouldn’t act like he’s fragile. Or like I — like I’m not.” This last comes with a scared sort laugh. He doesn’t know if he’s making sense. Some of this he’s only understanding as he says it, after hearing Bruce and Damian below. If he sees the threads he pulls them, he can’t help himself — it’s cruel, it’s patronising, it comes from a place of love and care and that makes it worse. He doesn’t want to be one more bastard with an overdeveloped conscience saying I know best and then running off alone into the danger he’s forbidden Tim from approaching.
“He wasn’t — when I met him he was choking. Slowly. Slow enough to know exactly what was happening to him. And I know the answer to that ain’t to pull him into more danger, but doing nothing wasn’t ever an option. Me and Tim, we’re pretty similar in some ways, believe it or not. Both of us need to be doing things. We don’t trust complacency...when something’s easy, we get suspicious. Start wondering what we’ve missed, or what we’re doing wrong, or whether we deserve any peace. So.
“So we’re trying to find some place between us, something that’s safe, safe-ish, but — happy. For both of us.” He scuffs his toe against the floorboards, scoffs. He’s not looking at Alfred. “Stop both of us from feeling like safe and happy are opposites. ...Work in progress.”