( there probably is a metaphor there, and the thought crosses wanda's mind, too, especially because of the way he said that. perhaps it's a metaphor for their acquaintanceship, for how it was formed through a few brittle exchanges, and yet here they are, sharing together.
she brings the krofne over, finding a plate in one of his cupboards to set them nicely on. just in time to see him turn the cup around. )
I want them for that.
( to make the space more inviting. there is so little personality in these motel rooms, even if wanda feels attached to her own space.
finally setting down the plate and sitting herself down where the other cup of tea is, wanda motions at him to join her with a hand. )
It's weirdly similar to Earth, though, right? ( the busy city, the cars, all these small tokens that fill their day-to-day lives. ) The concept of motels seem very specific to me.
( he could say that he's used to living out of motels, but it'd open the door to a slightly less pleasant conversation. instead, he hums, soft and considering, as he joins her.
the similarities are there in the things, sure. the roads, the cars, but for him, it's not so much that, it's the people.
he doesn't take a sip from the tea immediately; he waits for wanda, uncertain if it's like some of those fancy coffee places that exist, the ones that insist you wait a certain amount of time before drinking the coffee. something about an optimal temperature, which marc (and jake) think is bull, but steven insists is the correct way to drink coffee. (but, as jake points out, steven has very different ideas of necessary to jake and marc.)
his mouth quirks, and he inhales a breath. )
It's the people, ( he admits, muttered more than spoken, before— ) I was pretty sure I died, ( a touch louder, more certain. not seeking sympathy, just stating facts. they'd somewhat circled round the fact before, in their last conversation, although marc hadn't explicitly said he was certain he died in the preceding moments before awakening to yom crook and friend's faces. ) Thought this was just—. ( he gestures with the fingers of his hand, a kind of half-wave, wholly dismissive. ) Whatever.
But there are names I recognise. ( not faces. it's a very deliberate distinction. ) People I know not to be dead, but reminders of home anyway. Makes me wonder if this a place shaped by the people in it.
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she brings the krofne over, finding a plate in one of his cupboards to set them nicely on. just in time to see him turn the cup around. )
I want them for that.
( to make the space more inviting. there is so little personality in these motel rooms, even if wanda feels attached to her own space.
finally setting down the plate and sitting herself down where the other cup of tea is, wanda motions at him to join her with a hand. )
It's weirdly similar to Earth, though, right? ( the busy city, the cars, all these small tokens that fill their day-to-day lives. ) The concept of motels seem very specific to me.
no subject
the similarities are there in the things, sure. the roads, the cars, but for him, it's not so much that, it's the people.
he doesn't take a sip from the tea immediately; he waits for wanda, uncertain if it's like some of those fancy coffee places that exist, the ones that insist you wait a certain amount of time before drinking the coffee. something about an optimal temperature, which marc (and jake) think is bull, but steven insists is the correct way to drink coffee. (but, as jake points out, steven has very different ideas of necessary to jake and marc.)
his mouth quirks, and he inhales a breath. )
It's the people, ( he admits, muttered more than spoken, before— ) I was pretty sure I died, ( a touch louder, more certain. not seeking sympathy, just stating facts. they'd somewhat circled round the fact before, in their last conversation, although marc hadn't explicitly said he was certain he died in the preceding moments before awakening to yom crook and friend's faces. ) Thought this was just—. ( he gestures with the fingers of his hand, a kind of half-wave, wholly dismissive. ) Whatever.
But there are names I recognise. ( not faces. it's a very deliberate distinction. ) People I know not to be dead, but reminders of home anyway. Makes me wonder if this a place shaped by the people in it.