( lottie doesn't know that when marc was a child, he'd been INTO space in the way that only preteens can be. she doesn't know he'd begged elias for a telescope one hanukkah and how elated he'd been to receive it. she doesn't know that his bedroom — the childhood one in chicago, in a shitty apartment block that'd been the best his father could afford after immigrating — had been decorated with sports flags (the cubs, the bears), with movie posters (indiana jones). that there'd been stickers of darth vader on his bedroom door and action figures (darth vader again) on his bookshelves.
she doesn't know, either, that when he'd returned to his family home after a(nother) stay in putnam psychiatric that almost all of it was gone. that only the telescope had remained, sitting weirdly, almost accusatorily against a wall (not even near the window—), a painful reminder of being a child and being told against everything he felt, that he was sick. she knows he likes star trek (the original series), but not that he'd tried watching next generation and had mixed feelings about it, that he'd briefly wanted to be an astronaut (that'd have been cool, right?).
star wars had never been a part of disney when he'd been a kid. he'd been the awkward age of just missing the original trilogy in cinemas, but old enough to catch it on tv, old enough to ask for the vhs and to watch them enough times that they'd become worn out.
he'd said something about needing to look into something in florida, lottie had mentioned something about travelling being important for — something or other, marc can't remember the details — and then disneyworld had come up. he'd grumbled about it (because he's marc spector), muttered about florida and how leaving new york for los angeles had been bad enough. (he doesn't mention how clint barton had found it unendingly hilarious for moon knight of everyone to be a member of the west coast avengers, how fucking ridiculous marc had found it too when he'd — finally — come to his senses. once he'd been him and not khonshu.)
here and now, for once — once — he's not in the mr. knight suit. he's marc through-and-through, not out of any hitherto rare and infrequent acceptance of himself as a person, but because it's daytime, because they're not in new york, because he doesn't have any intrinsic and inherent want to stand out any more than he has to. (lottie does that enough for the both of them.) he's in casual trousers (black) and a roll-neck top (also black), discomfort palpable. it's different to attending an event, similar to greer pointing out — hurt — that he wears his mask even to watch movies with william and though lottie's seen his face, seen him countless times, that doesn't mean it thrills him.
he's here because it'd come up as something to do, something between what marc had wanted (needed? the lines are perpetually blurred) to do and lottie's engagements. it'd been a vague, coy suggestion that marc hadn't managed to come up with any real opposition to, other than a fairly pathetic "no" with precisely zero reason behind it.
disneyworld made them look like they weren't just here for business.
(he doesn't admit that he likes rollercoasters, that they're the acceptable, safe tip of marc's need for risk and danger and adrenalin. safety — in an of itself — is something that marc acts like he'd like, like he wants, but doesn't really know how to deal with.)
what he does admit is that he's never been to disneyworld, that he has no idea — really and truly — of the scope of it. that he'd never been into disney as a kid other than a passing, fleeting interest in mickey mouse (probably).
he hasn't quite worked out what, precisely, lottie gets out of it. he hadn't pegged her for a disney fan either, if he was honest. )
This isn't my usual sort of vacation spot.
( like she's unaware. like they haven't sort of vaguely loosely touched upon that, like he hasn't referenced his globe-trotting past. like it hasn't been established that marc only very rarely takes time out for himself.
like he doesn't act as if the idea of fun is thoroughly unknown to him.
(as if there isn't a part of him that doesn't hate the idea of this.) )
It's muggy, it's gross, it's humid and hot and disgusting and Lottie feels like she's sweating her skin off in her clothesβ the clothing that is very much less than whatever it is Marc left their hotel in this morning. "Are you really wearing that?" she asked, and Marc resolutely kept his all black ensemble on, along with his scowl, that perpetual frown he wears when he's trying to convince everybody in the room he's having a terrible time.
And. Her backpack. Marc is absolutely lugging her backpack that has all their things (sunscreen, emergency deodorant, water, lactaid, hand sanitizer, body mister, lotion, gum, bandaids, water again, their wallets, phones, portable phone chargers, the list goes on).
Whether he wants it or not, he has attention, and it has everything to do with the fact he is ill dressed for the weather. He only stands out even more standing beside Lottie, the two of them such a wild contrast that people are double-taking at the fact they're interacting. Marc, with his all black more-appropriate-for-fall look, and Lottie with her am-I-going-to-spill-out-the-front-or-the-back romper (he had to tie the ribbon securing her front tight across her bare back this morning because she kept getting arm cramps doing it herself). Her color motif of the day is a loving baby blue, coupled with the red ribbon tying her hair up into that high ponytail and her equally red sunglasses.
(She's already plotting the greatest caption for instagram, later today. Something something RGB, the primary colors.. They'll eat it up.)
Truthfully, this was a spur of the moment decision, not something Lottie typically does either because big crowds make her paranoid and anxious. A little more now, after the Incident IIβ’ β better to call it this than something actually descriptive, she thinks. Big crowds make her think germs and people who sneeze without doing it into their elbow, people who talk and chew at the same time.. Horrific. Guys who stand a little too close to her that make her feel uncomfortable (Lottie smiles up at Marc, seeing the berth they're already being given and she thinks that won't be a problem this time). She's not even that into Disney but a fan insisted on getting her some tickets for free and, well, who is she to deny them that pleasure?
Plus she can't deny, the photo op chances are insane here. It's perfect. ]
What, Disney or Florida? [ Tap tap tap at her phone. ] Mine's Florida.
[ She replies, finally, after making sure the Disney app is running properly on her phone. They've barely gotten past the gate, have set up beneath a rather shady tree to figure out a game plan before they start wandering around. Also because Lottie doesn't want Marc to get heatstroke or something!! She scrolls through the map, zooming in and out on specific areas, then hmmmms in that usual Lottie way that says she has an idea of what she wants to do, but she needs opinions. She hands it over his way, points with a nail (the color is a blood red, to match her outfit, today) at the screen. ]
Okay, so, we're gonna go for lunch at Star Wars land so what do you wanna do in the mean time?
( marc barely dresses for the weather at the best of times β no-one would ever be able to say that the three-piece suit is optimal for either summer or winter in new york; and no-one would be able to say it about his moon knight outfit either, although with the layers and the gloves and the steel toe-capped boots, one might be able to argue it's more suited to new york's winters than anything else.
marc is used to being hot and sweaty, slightly uncomfortable. the only concession he's made is to pull the sleeves up to his elbows, otherwise content to pointedly ignore the weather. his only comment on the matter had been to say it's fine and point out he's spent a lot of time in hot countries, like that means much of anything now, like that wasn't a decade or more ago.
they've not managed to get very far, and marc can't say he doesn't possess a degree of trepidation about it all. after the last INCIDENT, marc thinks that lottie's taken marc's commentary about the dangers of being around him more seriously, and though he can't remember the last trip he'd taken that hadn't involved moon knight to any degree, he — in contrast to before — has deliberately refrained from mentioning anything. the potential difficulties of associating with marc spector, now that it's happened, is to some extent something he wants to bury deep, for fear of what might happen if it's brought up.
(guilt, then, is one of the reasons he'd agreed to this—.) )
Any of it, ( he answers, semi-absently mindedly as she taps away at her phone. his attention's fixed on their surroundings, the endless crowds, the families and the couples. people — children and adults alike — dressed up in costumes with varying degrees of impressiveness, and marc recognises far fewer than he'd imagined he would.
she says something about lunch and about star wars, and he looks back to her, expression slightly startled. (it's barely morning—.) does marc have even the slightest clue of what they can do or where they can go? no. even with the proffered phone, even with the app. )
It's a big place. Why don't we just walk in that direction and see what we come across. ( half a statement, half a question because he knows what that tone means, he knows that even if lottie's asking him, she still has something of an idea herself (but whether or not she goes with it is something else entirely—.) ) Rides. Rollercoasters. ( and — stuff? )
[ Marc refusing to bring it up works well for herβ Lottie has done much of the same, a stubborn refusal to acknowledge any of what happened besides the fact, well, it did. She doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't want to further deepen his association with the incident (it's bad enough whenever she looks at him or the moon the memories hit her in flashes and she gets panic attacks). So Marc being willing to do this and just be two people at a theme park is nice.
(She already figured it was guilt, or some induced need to make sure Lottie is safe and having fun because he owes it to her, that he's here. Lottie has made it a point to not question and just enjoy this, because of that.) ]
..Okayβ I don't see why not.
[ Is what she says instead of what she wants to ('there's this photo op spot on the pirate island that would look really cute with me'). He compromised with her, so.. She guesses it's only fair she do the same or something.
So she pockets her phone by... Putting it in the backpack (she has no pockets in this romper, sadly). Takes out a water bottle to hold instead, because Marc will probably get insanely thirsty with this equally insane get up he has on, before beginning their trek through the park. The first thing they're greeted with is the overly bright, overtly cheerful, essence of Main Street. It smells faintly of popcorn and there's a child screaming in the distance (she winces), but a stray Mickey wanders about with his handler and that seems to bring her back into the illusion of it all.
The jaunty tune that's played overhead kind of puts her in a better mood, especially when the castle (the castle) can be seen in the distance. She turns to look at Marc, eyes lingering a little past him when she sees a candy shop (the storefront cute because, era appropriate 50's candy store). ]
( marc has been designated bag carrier and pack mule — at first, he'd tried to leave the hotel with nothing except what would fit in his pockets, an argument made for 'what else is necessary?'. for marc, necessities are his phone and keys and that's it. something that can be used as a weapon is nice but ultimately not always easily carried and not necessary, not when he has two (2) hands and two (2) legs.
lottie had won out (of course she had) with a list of things that marc had started off questioning and then, eventually, just gave up. she'd pointed out, too, that her outfit has no pockets which — yes, he gets, but calling it an outfit is perhaps stretching the definition. (something about practicality had been mentioned, and marc had been called a hypocrite — or words to that effect, anyway).
she — they compromise, together — and then she asks him if he'd looked up anything to do with the park and he looks at her, expression level, before turning to face the candy shop that lottie's gaze is briefly fixed. it's careful, the methodic way that marc tries to school his expression not to give away that he has, but not in the way that lottie means. it's marc's 'if I give nothing away, no-one will know I'm avoiding the honest answer' approach. the one he's practised time and time again.
he'd looked up the recent history of the park and found himself on far too many sites that were about the actual history of the park (ugh), then conspiracy theories (hmm) before he'd found (or didn't find) what he'd been after: disney, apparently, was big enough, harboured enough money that there wasn't any evidence of any shady agencies of the sort marc tended to worry about setting up base in the park. and criminals dumb enough to try anything were swiftly dealt with.
it was fine. )
Yes, ( he says, attention flickering back towards her. (she didn't specify in what capacity.) ) Didn't you?
[ Lottie, being the brat she is, always tends to win out when people are already endeared to her. Especially when she has points (oh, she absolutely utilized the fact that he is a hypocrite when it comes to women slaying and yassing and, uh, mainly impractical outfits!! So what if she has an open back that he needed to tie?! Hmm??) just burning holes in her pocketβ or, in her notes app, this time. Which is half why she's willing to compromise with him, half why she takes his silence as him earnestly gathering his thoughts.
Marc is lucky in that she doesn't catch the way his eyes move towards her, or what his expression initially means. She's too busy talking herself out of a snack because she knows it'll make her stomach upset, but her eyes manage to draw back to him, only bothering to question his face when he answers.. Yes.
She blinks at him, her expression screaming disbelief. ]
So what ride did you wanna go on, then?
[ She completely bypasses his question because to her, it's obvious. Of course she googled everything, of course she looked up ride POV's on what everything looks like, of course she checked out the nutrition guide for every food place on premisesβ all the first aids, all the areas with nooks and crannies designed for photos.
(And yes, she even went over the rules, and in her own extensive search she found out Disney jail is real and is pointedly only going to get a little buzzed today, as a result!) ]
( there have been times when marc has created reasons to visit places — st. lucien, for example, before muttering something about sightseeing and promptly getting called out on his bullshit. this is not unlike that — marc answering in earnest an entirely different question to the one that's been asked, hoping he'll get away with it.
he doesn't. he rarely does. marc and steven and jake, all three of them are good at concocting stories, but they don't always catch the bigger picture, they don't always think of the details that others get hung up on as incongruous and weird. steven doesn't always think of a letter address to marc spector buried in his luggage; marc doesn't think of how unlike him it is to look up something fun.
it barely lasts a minute, lottie's disbelief tangible even before she asks him what ride he wants to go on and marc falters. so often marc is found either in the mask or — outside of it — pensive and serious. there aren't many people who get to see the full breadth of marc's expressions — the petulance, the earnestness, the wide-eyed doubt and surprise, or — most infrequent of all — humour.
this is none of those. it's the expression of a man caught in the middle of a fib, one that's ultimately inconsequential but enough of a thing that the attempt to think of an answer is clear in his features.
it's 'oh shit' mixed with 'oh fuck' and a dash of 'I don't know'.
(dark recesses of years past are searched—) ) —Space Mountain.
[ It's true, it is very unlike Marc to look up something fun. Which begs the question, why did she even ask?
(She's nosy, that's why she asked!!)
It doesn't matter in the end, it's not important really, because what she's seeing right now explains everything with so little. Marc's expression dances, goes on a journey she can barely comprehend other than brief dashes of panic and confusion, sprinkled in with 'UHHHHHHH'. It's so stupidly amusing that she struggles to hide the fact she's beginning to enjoy this, lips squirming before pressing into a flat line to preserve her own unimpressed expression. And thenβ Space Mountain. ]
The coaster?
[ Her reply is an equally dead giveaway of one of Lottie's isms (AKA, what she does when she doesn't want to say yes or no) because that's the rollercoaster, right?
(One of the cons of watching POV videos of every ride, she has a good idea of the ones that'd make her squeamish, and Space Mountain was one of them. Nevermind the people in the comments saying it was a good 'starter' coaster, that it wasn't even that bad, because that's beside the point that something could go wrong and they could get hurt. Or what if they get stuck??)
Her head tilts curiously at him, easing past her panic at the concept of sitting in one of those vehicles to realize something importantβ ]
( the look he gives her is questioning in an entirely different way, as if he's trying to work out what she means by that, the way she encunciates 'you' and 'rollercoaster'. compared to the other options — the ones that marc hasn't looked up, knows only through the vaguest of osmosis (something cartoons, something movies, something boring) — he doesn't know what she'd expected.
(haunted house, probably, because he's moon knight and he's creepy.)
none of the concerns that occur to lottie occur to marc — he's hurt on a near daily basis, flirts with violence and lasting bodily damage nightly. marc wouldn't precisely describe it as fun because that's not what it is, not really, but it makes him feel alive in a way little else does or can. marc has never much cared about danger or about being hurt — indeed, the prospect is more a benefit than a negative, as far as he's concerned.
his gaze slides past her, to the very small amount of the park visible to them in their present location. to the candy shop, to the families, to the mundanity of it all. marc's always wanted this.
(hasn't he?) )
That's why we're here, isn't it? ( a breath of a pause. ) You can't want to go on the teacups.
[ Sorry, Marc, she's just surprised you'd actually like a genre of rides (like a genre of 'fun', is what she means) that she had to clarify in her stupor. In the time it takes for his eyes to settle elsewhere, remind her, too, that they're those people who have stopped in the middle of the road and now everyone is having to walk around them, she realizes they've got a ways to go. This is barely the entrance, they haven't even made it to the castle yet and they're already on the verge of a disagreement becauseβ ]
What's wrong with the teacups?
[ Not defensive, not exactly accusatory, but more offended that he'd reach for that first and not.. She doesn't know, Haunted Mansion? Or Pirates? Small World?? Although that one's a reach, she's always hated It's a Small World because it was so long and boring.
She gives a pat to his arm, decides they can walk and talk because the heat is beginning to make her sweat (already!). ]
( marc experiences fun in a loose, vague way. it's tied (mostly) to his perception of happiness, of worthiness. marc had grown from a young boy with the usual interests — science fiction and aliens, dinosaurs and space — into a teenager who'd had cause to doubt his own thoughts, into an adult whose definition of 'fun' was, mostly, warped.
for marc, 'fun' is linked with pleasure, is linked with pain. he's always been the sort to seek out the uncomfortable, the terrifying. rollercoasters aren't strictly his idea of fun, but they're the closest he thinks he's going to get it at disneyworld, the entire concept of which (family friendly) feels antithetical to his — moon knight's — very being.
(what's wrong with the teacups? lottie asks before patting him on the arm, an action that says 'let's move' even if she doesn't vocalise it, trotting off deeper into the park and telling him that the teacups are essential.
marc pauses, just for a second, a wave of something not entirely dissimilar to regret making itself known.)
he knows lottie likes safety, she likes security, she likes the known, but he hadn't thought she'd have wanted to play it so safe. (no, he should have, he realises as he falls into step beside her. everything he knows of lottie outside her own four walls and occasionally his relies on her image. her perception. her marketability. rollercoasters might be fun, but they're not the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of lottie person's public image.
(too many uncontrollables.) )
Hmm, ( is what he manages to enunciate instead of the 'they're boring' that threatens to make itself known as commentary. ) Iconic how? ( go on, explain it to him. )
[ He's not wrongβ going on a rollercoaster is already a risk for her poor heart, an even bigger risk for her hair, her makeup (her lashes). And while it's not like Disney has anything that crazy on their roster, save for the Incredicoaster, Lottie has no plans on finding out what her face looks like snapped mid ride and for the public to see until the next group of suckers get on.
But she doesn't explain that, either. Much like how Marc has already figured out why she wouldn't like it, as they walk Lottie is slowly piecing together how he'd like it. It's fast, exciting, controlled chaos whereas so much of Marc's like is uncontrollable chaos, taking everything by the horns and just hopinig something terrible doesn't happen.
(Like the kidnapping. Mostly, like, the kidnapping.)
She frowns, just in time for it to seem proper because he hmmms in that typical Marc way of his that lets her know he doesn't quite believe her. The fact she knows it makes her all the more irked when she comes back down to earth and sighs heavy, dramatically. He's skeptical, the man who supposedly googled so much yet only came up with one ride! She fans at herself, already sweating as they navigate through the crowd and towards the more futuristic branch of the park, where his Space Mountain is. ]
It just is.
[ C'mon Marc!! Get with the program!! ]
When people think of Disney they either think of Haunted Mansion, or the teacup ride. It's the one thing they promote the most outside of their parades.
( she explains disney to him and he looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, realising that even if lottie didn't exactly strike him as the sort of person that likes disney, the fact that she's done her version of research shouldn't come as a surprise. of course she's looked into what rides are the most popular, the most visible. of course she's looked into what's promoted the most, the places to be seen at, the places to avoid, the places that are most lottie person(-brand) friendly.
he doesn't quite know where she's leading him — and it is very much her leading him — and he doesn't know if he ought to be impressed or not by her awareness of the park, the fact that she's, to his knowledge, scrutinised the map once before heading off in whatever direction.
(no, deep-down he is impressed but he's that determined that this is about appeasing his guilt and making lottie — well, if not happy, something approaching it — that he can't quite acknowledge the effort that lottie's put into it all.
—and he's still stuck with her bag and her belongings, his own keys and phone shoved in a pocket. unceremonious and uncomfortable, the lining sticking to his legs. there's room in her bag, of course there is, but he'd wanted to prove a point.)
he almost entirely ignores everything she's said — haunted mansion this (he has one of those!), teacups that — in favour of brushing his slightly damp, sweaty hair away from his face. ignores the thought that maybe he should get a haircut and (finally) admits, bluntly— )
[ Lottie doesn't even consider the fact Marc might be impressed by her bizarre ability to memorize layouts and maps when she's in places that might get her lost (all about safety, all about knowing where the bathroom is, being prepared). She assumed she'd be leading the two throughout their trip regardless, Marc not being inclined to have fun orβ there it is, do research on how to have fun at Disney World. If it were in his hands, they'd probably end up wandering a good ninety percent of the time, probably enjoying the atmosphere or whatever (what are they, old people?).
That admission only makes her perk up even more. And when she turns to look at him to say I knew it, it's right in time to catch him wiping the sweat at his hairline, swiping his hair up and away from his face.
So much for being impervious to the heatβ she turns away to keep the sight of her smirk growing at her lips, her own little secret, before tugging him forward to be the front of the train (he'll notice the area getting distinctly more futuristicβ or at least, Disney's version of it, lots of chrome and rockets, planets and spaceships). Entirely so she can get behind that backpack and zip it open for a handkerchief, one of the extras she brought in case her own got dirty.
(Something she would not be able to provide if it weren't for the backpack.. Take notes Marc!!) ]
So what did you look up then?
[ Because he says: the rides. Doesn't say he didn't look anything up, interestingly enough, which means when Lottie questions him it is less admonishing, more curious. It even means she's nicer when she puts the handkerchief (pink, lacey, an 'L' embroidered on the side in gaudy cursive) into his hand. ]
( if it was in his hands, they wouldn't be here. marc's idea of fun flits between reckless endangerment of self to its complete opposite, to dinner and movies and startling domesticity with precisely nothing in between. marc, intense and dour most of the time, is capable of surprising boyishness, the sort of immaturity that comes with only having had a fairly select number of experiences in his life. he doesn't give off the impression of someone with limited life experiences, if only because those life experiences are so intense, but it's true nonetheless.
(at most, marc would concede a visit to disneyworld with diatrice, but that trip will never happen, not with him.)
in his hands, he's prepared to grumble about the price of food, the length of queues, the everything of florida. lottie hasn't really given him that chance and it'd be ungracious of him. rude. he's quiet, pliant, albeit stiff, as she searches her backpack for god knows what, the action punctuated by a genuinely curious question. he huh?s, inelegant and surprised as a (frankly awful) handkerchief is pressed into his hand and he looks to lottie, his gaze meeting hers, questioning and doubtful.
(he's got a perfectly serviceable hand to wipe the sweat away, is what his expression says. I'm fine with heat is not the same as I don't sweat is the second, uncommunicable thought that hits him as the why she's given it to him dawns on him.)
he shoves it in a pocket and gestures, vaguely, at their increasingly sci-fi (of marc's childhood, really) surroundings. if he'd been asked, some thirty-odd years ago, what the future looked like, his answer would've been something like this.
(and he wonders, fleetingly, what lottie thinks of it all.) )
News articles. Important information. You know, anything we need to know.
[ Her lips curl down, a real blink and you miss it moment, as he pockets her handkerchief rather than using it. Instead willing himself to endure sweat droplets down his face rather than doing the easier thing of just wiping it away. She refrains from crossing her arms or saying anything (because she is saying enough with her eyes, the way her brows furrow and her lips jut out), figures he must be alright with the shade they walk through to give him brief reprieve from the sun.
Because in Florida, really, that's all there is. Sun and oppressive humidity, hardly much wind, just an air of uncomfortable only amplified by the amount of people confined in the park with them and reduced by the misters around the park. They hit a Pizza Planet β marked by the giant cartoon space ship jutting from the top, pointed high in the sky, and an of the era retro sign that eerily reminds her of a paper cup.
She fans at herself, listens to him explain himself and thinks yup, that is definitely what Marc would look up. News articles. Important information. Anything they need to know. ]
Disney deaths? Myths?
[ She knows you Marc!! She knows that you would've gone down a rabbit hole of things that are lore adjacent rather than anything practical, like she did.
(Said by the person who now would only go to theme parks for a photo or two and leave. She went to too many when she was growing up, "family trips" that would end in disaster and either Lottie crying or everybody crying. Nothing about the memories are traditionally pleasant and she, often times, hated doing anything. Would have a tantrum and scream, have a fit, when her mother or sister's would try and coral her into a ride. As an adult, none of it is as scary as it was when she was younger. Or boring. Now it's just opportunities for her to make money and eat okay food in a pretty place.) ]
( he ignores the pout, the unhappy curve of her lips as he pockets the handkerchief. he ignores, too, the clamminess of his skin, the uncomfortable stickiness that he's more accustomed to than he'll ever admit. new york is not florida, it's not humid and gross in the same way, but marc lives in unbreathable suits. in layers. sweaty discomfort is a state of being he's used to.
(and he doesn't want to give lottie the satisfaction. not yet, anyway, not when the day's just started.)
disney deaths, she suggests, and he looks to her, sideways and askance, in a way that admits yes without him having to vocalise the word. of course that's what he looked up. disney jail, too, although he hadn't meant to and it'd just been where he ended up, a vague reminder that people like him aren't really welcome in places like disney. that there are a dozen ways this could end badly if marc's— well, if he's not on his best behaviour.
marc's familiarity with disney begins and ends with the eighties, punctuated by cultural touchpoints like mickey mouse. pizza planet sits on the cusp, feels like it should be familiar and recognisable, but utterly isn't. he mms vaguely in response, gaze sliding over the outside of the building, the lettering, the logo, thinks that the pizza's probably garbage and redirects his attention back to lottie. )
[ She manages to look even more displeased by the time he settles on thatβ his, it's not anything to worry about.
Only super drunk and unruly people go to Disney jail but also, Marc? Please be normal for once?! Her eyes scream this, unimpressed and trying very hard to get rid of it the second she realizes what she's broadcasting because the day's just started. She's not going to give Marc the satisfaction of getting upset, much like how he won't give her the satisfaction of feeling like a nice person for handing him her handkerchief. ]
Cool. Great to know..
[ Still, she can't help it if she sounds a little bratty. At the very least this doesn't stop their stride, allowing them both to make it to his Space Mountain in record time. Lottie, at the sight of the entrance, doesn't seem to be particularly enthused for anything other than the air conditioning insideβ it's easier to see when she breathes out a sigh of relief when they waltz in line, a dreamy look to her face. ]
( she's not happy. he can see she's not happy, the way that her eyes narrow, the way that her features pinch and tense. the way that she seems to force herself to ignore that feeling, tries to paper over the unhappiness with something else, even as her tone doesn't quite reflect it. even as she sounds thoroughly unimpressed and—
—it's not what he meant. maybe. there's a chance they're on different pages — when marc says it's not an issue, when he thinks he needs to be on his best behaviour (quote-unquote), he means moon knight. he means he's not going to run off (try not to) and he's not going to GET INVOLVED in anything unless he has to — and if he does, well, he's escaped from actual, non-disney jail before.
but he can't promise anything. there are never any guarantees when it comes to marc spector doing stuff. he says he'll do x and that he won't do y, but then when it comes to it, the opposite happens. he should know better than to make promises, but it's never managed to stop him.
still, they're there. at space mountain. it's not quite everything he'd imagined as a kid, a not-quite-teen who'd caught star wars in the cinema and then immediately snuck back in to see it again. his gaze shifts sideways, almost imperceptibly, and lottie doesn't seem to care either way. her expression shifts — pleasant, relaxed — as they step inside, as cool air washes over them and there's no mistaking it.
her expression is thanks for the aircon and not a surprising, sudden fondness for space-themed disney rides.
(is this how the day's going to go—.)
his attention shifts to the ride and to the queue, as the sinking realisation that they're going to be spending most of their day in some form of a line hits. he won't say it, but at least there is aircon. )
—So what did you look up? ( he asks, not bratty but still vaguely challenging. curious. )
[ Oh, this is exactly how the day is going to goβ maybe with more pleasant lulls between. When they aren't talking about how woefully under prepared and under planned (thankfully, underbudget for their Disney allowance they both agreed on when it came to spending) they are for this day. Because who knowsβ their whole dynamic could change now that they're outside!! (Probably not.) Sunny days ahead, maybe?! (Definitely not.)
In comparison to her snippy attitude moments before, she looks calmer. The flush to her cheeks dull as a result, the heat always showing on her body before she can voice it (either through a red face, through her sweat, her irritation). Although she's looking more of a blue and purple now, the lighting within the building bathed in it to reflect how futuristic it is. They walk past different screens, all bright and blaringβ it makes for an interesting contrast of colors, content, when she glances at one depicting a drawing of space. ]
Moi? [ Is Marc being catty right now?? ] Food. Rides. What times the parades startβ
[ Photo ops go unsaidβ Lottie figures he must already know about that, just like how Lottie knows Marc is going to be stubbornly existing in his sweater. Lottie deliberately lingers beneath a vent, ushering Marc to join her.
(There's no one behind them, it's still early and everything is at a walk up at this point. And if people do wander in, they just walk around them or nod in understanding, happy they can skip one pair of people ahead of them.) ]
Tu. ( he utters, an immediate response to her 'moi'. he could say vous, could opt for the MORE POLITE, but it'd lose any and all impact, he thinks. imagines the extent of lottie's knowledge of french begins and ends with — maybe — moulin rouge. the (inferior!) version of lady marmalade—.
(or not, maybe marc would be aging himself. again.)
his expression is deliberately blank, devoid of anything truly discernible as she says 'food' (yeah, okay), 'rides' (eh), 'parades' (the fuck?) until she says 'knock off star trek' and he's—
shocked. surprised. astounded. all at once he's taken aback and at a loss for words because firstly, lottie remembered him mentioning star trek; and two — that's not true. star trek and star wars share similarities only in that they're set in space, star trek is about hope, about peace. star wars is—
—well, marc had been pre-pubescent when he'd seen a new hope. when he'd caught it in the cinema, been amazed and had snuck straight back in to watch the subsequent showing. when he'd muttered something to his dad about 'got the wrong show time' and his dad had looked at him with that expression that said he didn't believe him but wasn't about to argue. )
—They're different, ( is what he manages as a response, uttered in such a way that says he can't help himself. )
[ (It is definitely Moulin Rouge and by extension Christina Aguilera's Burlesque (not that she can recall any French being in it but, same movie, right?).)
Lottie is not a fool. She knows what people must think of her in regards to he attention spanβ which is why she deliberately looks to Marc after she namedrops one of his shows. The one that they didn't watch but the one she picked up after a clip of Spock and Kirk being gay as hell went viral. She knows her even saying that instead of Star Wars would get a reaction, and boy.
Worth it. So very worth it, to see that on his face. She grins, all of a sudden, clearly satisfied in goading that out of him, not even bothering to school her expression into nonchalance like she usually would (because thinking of others? Cringe!!). ]
Duh. I'm saying Star Trek is the original!
[ Despite their differences, she means. Maybe because of their differences. After all, the people in Star Trek get cute ass outfits. What do the girls in Star Wars get? Brown drab floppy whatever the hell they're wearing?? Ew! ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
β photocopy
she doesn't know, either, that when he'd returned to his family home after a(nother) stay in putnam psychiatric that almost all of it was gone. that only the telescope had remained, sitting weirdly, almost accusatorily against a wall (not even near the window—), a painful reminder of being a child and being told against everything he felt, that he was sick. she knows he likes star trek (the original series), but not that he'd tried watching next generation and had mixed feelings about it, that he'd briefly wanted to be an astronaut (that'd have been cool, right?).
star wars had never been a part of disney when he'd been a kid. he'd been the awkward age of just missing the original trilogy in cinemas, but old enough to catch it on tv, old enough to ask for the vhs and to watch them enough times that they'd become worn out.
he'd said something about needing to look into something in florida, lottie had mentioned something about travelling being important for — something or other, marc can't remember the details — and then disneyworld had come up. he'd grumbled about it (because he's marc spector), muttered about florida and how leaving new york for los angeles had been bad enough. (he doesn't mention how clint barton had found it unendingly hilarious for moon knight of everyone to be a member of the west coast avengers, how fucking ridiculous marc had found it too when he'd — finally — come to his senses. once he'd been him and not khonshu.)
here and now, for once — once — he's not in the mr. knight suit. he's marc through-and-through, not out of any hitherto rare and infrequent acceptance of himself as a person, but because it's daytime, because they're not in new york, because he doesn't have any intrinsic and inherent want to stand out any more than he has to. (lottie does that enough for the both of them.) he's in casual trousers (black) and a roll-neck top (also black), discomfort palpable. it's different to attending an event, similar to greer pointing out — hurt — that he wears his mask even to watch movies with william and though lottie's seen his face, seen him countless times, that doesn't mean it thrills him.
he's here because it'd come up as something to do, something between what marc had wanted (needed? the lines are perpetually blurred) to do and lottie's engagements. it'd been a vague, coy suggestion that marc hadn't managed to come up with any real opposition to, other than a fairly pathetic "no" with precisely zero reason behind it.
disneyworld made them look like they weren't just here for business.
(he doesn't admit that he likes rollercoasters, that they're the acceptable, safe tip of marc's need for risk and danger and adrenalin. safety — in an of itself — is something that marc acts like he'd like, like he wants, but doesn't really know how to deal with.)
what he does admit is that he's never been to disneyworld, that he has no idea — really and truly — of the scope of it. that he'd never been into disney as a kid other than a passing, fleeting interest in mickey mouse (probably).
he hasn't quite worked out what, precisely, lottie gets out of it. he hadn't pegged her for a disney fan either, if he was honest. )
This isn't my usual sort of vacation spot.
( like she's unaware. like they haven't sort of vaguely loosely touched upon that, like he hasn't referenced his globe-trotting past. like it hasn't been established that marc only very rarely takes time out for himself.
like he doesn't act as if the idea of fun is thoroughly unknown to him.
(as if there isn't a part of him that doesn't hate the idea of this.) )
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It's muggy, it's gross, it's humid and hot and disgusting and Lottie feels like she's sweating her skin off in her clothesβ the clothing that is very much less than whatever it is Marc left their hotel in this morning. "Are you really wearing that?" she asked, and Marc resolutely kept his all black ensemble on, along with his scowl, that perpetual frown he wears when he's trying to convince everybody in the room he's having a terrible time.
And. Her backpack. Marc is absolutely lugging her backpack that has all their things (sunscreen, emergency deodorant, water, lactaid, hand sanitizer, body mister, lotion, gum, bandaids, water again, their wallets, phones, portable phone chargers, the list goes on).
Whether he wants it or not, he has attention, and it has everything to do with the fact he is ill dressed for the weather. He only stands out even more standing beside Lottie, the two of them such a wild contrast that people are double-taking at the fact they're interacting. Marc, with his all black more-appropriate-for-fall look, and Lottie with her am-I-going-to-spill-out-the-front-or-the-back romper (he had to tie the ribbon securing her front tight across her bare back this morning because she kept getting arm cramps doing it herself). Her color motif of the day is a loving baby blue, coupled with the red ribbon tying her hair up into that high ponytail and her equally red sunglasses.
(She's already plotting the greatest caption for instagram, later today. Something something RGB, the primary colors.. They'll eat it up.)
Truthfully, this was a spur of the moment decision, not something Lottie typically does either because big crowds make her paranoid and anxious. A little more now, after the Incident IIβ’ β better to call it this than something actually descriptive, she thinks. Big crowds make her think germs and people who sneeze without doing it into their elbow, people who talk and chew at the same time.. Horrific. Guys who stand a little too close to her that make her feel uncomfortable (Lottie smiles up at Marc, seeing the berth they're already being given and she thinks that won't be a problem this time). She's not even that into Disney but a fan insisted on getting her some tickets for free and, well, who is she to deny them that pleasure?
Plus she can't deny, the photo op chances are insane here. It's perfect. ]
What, Disney or Florida? [ Tap tap tap at her phone. ] Mine's Florida.
[ She replies, finally, after making sure the Disney app is running properly on her phone. They've barely gotten past the gate, have set up beneath a rather shady tree to figure out a game plan before they start wandering around. Also because Lottie doesn't want Marc to get heatstroke or something!! She scrolls through the map, zooming in and out on specific areas, then hmmmms in that usual Lottie way that says she has an idea of what she wants to do, but she needs opinions. She hands it over his way, points with a nail (the color is a blood red, to match her outfit, today) at the screen. ]
Okay, so, we're gonna go for lunch at Star Wars land so what do you wanna do in the mean time?
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marc is used to being hot and sweaty, slightly uncomfortable. the only concession he's made is to pull the sleeves up to his elbows, otherwise content to pointedly ignore the weather. his only comment on the matter had been to say it's fine and point out he's spent a lot of time in hot countries, like that means much of anything now, like that wasn't a decade or more ago.
they've not managed to get very far, and marc can't say he doesn't possess a degree of trepidation about it all. after the last INCIDENT, marc thinks that lottie's taken marc's commentary about the dangers of being around him more seriously, and though he can't remember the last trip he'd taken that hadn't involved moon knight to any degree, he — in contrast to before — has deliberately refrained from mentioning anything. the potential difficulties of associating with marc spector, now that it's happened, is to some extent something he wants to bury deep, for fear of what might happen if it's brought up.
(guilt, then, is one of the reasons he'd agreed to this—.) )
Any of it, ( he answers, semi-absently mindedly as she taps away at her phone. his attention's fixed on their surroundings, the endless crowds, the families and the couples. people — children and adults alike — dressed up in costumes with varying degrees of impressiveness, and marc recognises far fewer than he'd imagined he would.
she says something about lunch and about star wars, and he looks back to her, expression slightly startled. (it's barely morning—.) does marc have even the slightest clue of what they can do or where they can go? no. even with the proffered phone, even with the app. )
It's a big place. Why don't we just walk in that direction and see what we come across. ( half a statement, half a question because he knows what that tone means, he knows that even if lottie's asking him, she still has something of an idea herself (but whether or not she goes with it is something else entirely—.) ) Rides. Rollercoasters. ( and — stuff? )
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(She already figured it was guilt, or some induced need to make sure Lottie is safe and having fun because he owes it to her, that he's here. Lottie has made it a point to not question and just enjoy this, because of that.) ]
..Okayβ I don't see why not.
[ Is what she says instead of what she wants to ('there's this photo op spot on the pirate island that would look really cute with me'). He compromised with her, so.. She guesses it's only fair she do the same or something.
So she pockets her phone by... Putting it in the backpack (she has no pockets in this romper, sadly). Takes out a water bottle to hold instead, because Marc will probably get insanely thirsty with this equally insane get up he has on, before beginning their trek through the park. The first thing they're greeted with is the overly bright, overtly cheerful, essence of Main Street. It smells faintly of popcorn and there's a child screaming in the distance (she winces), but a stray Mickey wanders about with his handler and that seems to bring her back into the illusion of it all.
The jaunty tune that's played overhead kind of puts her in a better mood, especially when the castle (the castle) can be seen in the distance. She turns to look at Marc, eyes lingering a little past him when she sees a candy shop (the storefront cute because, era appropriate 50's candy store). ]
Did you look up anything about the park? At all?
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lottie had won out (of course she had) with a list of things that marc had started off questioning and then, eventually, just gave up. she'd pointed out, too, that her outfit has no pockets which — yes, he gets, but calling it an outfit is perhaps stretching the definition. (something about practicality had been mentioned, and marc had been called a hypocrite — or words to that effect, anyway).
she — they compromise, together — and then she asks him if he'd looked up anything to do with the park and he looks at her, expression level, before turning to face the candy shop that lottie's gaze is briefly fixed. it's careful, the methodic way that marc tries to school his expression not to give away that he has, but not in the way that lottie means. it's marc's 'if I give nothing away, no-one will know I'm avoiding the honest answer' approach. the one he's practised time and time again.
he'd looked up the recent history of the park and found himself on far too many sites that were about the actual history of the park (ugh), then conspiracy theories (hmm) before he'd found (or didn't find) what he'd been after: disney, apparently, was big enough, harboured enough money that there wasn't any evidence of any shady agencies of the sort marc tended to worry about setting up base in the park. and criminals dumb enough to try anything were swiftly dealt with.
it was fine. )
Yes, ( he says, attention flickering back towards her. (she didn't specify in what capacity.) ) Didn't you?
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Marc is lucky in that she doesn't catch the way his eyes move towards her, or what his expression initially means. She's too busy talking herself out of a snack because she knows it'll make her stomach upset, but her eyes manage to draw back to him, only bothering to question his face when he answers.. Yes.
She blinks at him, her expression screaming disbelief. ]
So what ride did you wanna go on, then?
[ She completely bypasses his question because to her, it's obvious. Of course she googled everything, of course she looked up ride POV's on what everything looks like, of course she checked out the nutrition guide for every food place on premisesβ all the first aids, all the areas with nooks and crannies designed for photos.
(And yes, she even went over the rules, and in her own extensive search she found out Disney jail is real and is pointedly only going to get a little buzzed today, as a result!) ]
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he doesn't. he rarely does. marc and steven and jake, all three of them are good at concocting stories, but they don't always catch the bigger picture, they don't always think of the details that others get hung up on as incongruous and weird. steven doesn't always think of a letter address to marc spector buried in his luggage; marc doesn't think of how unlike him it is to look up something fun.
it barely lasts a minute, lottie's disbelief tangible even before she asks him what ride he wants to go on and marc falters. so often marc is found either in the mask or — outside of it — pensive and serious. there aren't many people who get to see the full breadth of marc's expressions — the petulance, the earnestness, the wide-eyed doubt and surprise, or — most infrequent of all — humour.
this is none of those. it's the expression of a man caught in the middle of a fib, one that's ultimately inconsequential but enough of a thing that the attempt to think of an answer is clear in his features.
it's 'oh shit' mixed with 'oh fuck' and a dash of 'I don't know'.
(dark recesses of years past are searched—) ) —Space Mountain.
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(She's nosy, that's why she asked!!)
It doesn't matter in the end, it's not important really, because what she's seeing right now explains everything with so little. Marc's expression dances, goes on a journey she can barely comprehend other than brief dashes of panic and confusion, sprinkled in with 'UHHHHHHH'. It's so stupidly amusing that she struggles to hide the fact she's beginning to enjoy this, lips squirming before pressing into a flat line to preserve her own unimpressed expression. And thenβ Space Mountain. ]
The coaster?
[ Her reply is an equally dead giveaway of one of Lottie's isms (AKA, what she does when she doesn't want to say yes or no) because that's the rollercoaster, right?
(One of the cons of watching POV videos of every ride, she has a good idea of the ones that'd make her squeamish, and Space Mountain was one of them. Nevermind the people in the comments saying it was a good 'starter' coaster, that it wasn't even that bad, because that's beside the point that something could go wrong and they could get hurt. Or what if they get stuck??)
Her head tilts curiously at him, easing past her panic at the concept of sitting in one of those vehicles to realize something importantβ ]
..You wanna go on a rollercoaster?
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(haunted house, probably, because he's moon knight and he's creepy.)
none of the concerns that occur to lottie occur to marc — he's hurt on a near daily basis, flirts with violence and lasting bodily damage nightly. marc wouldn't precisely describe it as fun because that's not what it is, not really, but it makes him feel alive in a way little else does or can. marc has never much cared about danger or about being hurt — indeed, the prospect is more a benefit than a negative, as far as he's concerned.
his gaze slides past her, to the very small amount of the park visible to them in their present location. to the candy shop, to the families, to the mundanity of it all. marc's always wanted this.
(hasn't he?) )
That's why we're here, isn't it? ( a breath of a pause. ) You can't want to go on the teacups.
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What's wrong with the teacups?
[ Not defensive, not exactly accusatory, but more offended that he'd reach for that first and not.. She doesn't know, Haunted Mansion? Or Pirates? Small World?? Although that one's a reach, she's always hated It's a Small World because it was so long and boring.
She gives a pat to his arm, decides they can walk and talk because the heat is beginning to make her sweat (already!). ]
The teacups are like iconic! Essential.
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for marc, 'fun' is linked with pleasure, is linked with pain. he's always been the sort to seek out the uncomfortable, the terrifying. rollercoasters aren't strictly his idea of fun, but they're the closest he thinks he's going to get it at disneyworld, the entire concept of which (family friendly) feels antithetical to his — moon knight's — very being.
(what's wrong with the teacups? lottie asks before patting him on the arm, an action that says 'let's move' even if she doesn't vocalise it, trotting off deeper into the park and telling him that the teacups are essential.
marc pauses, just for a second, a wave of something not entirely dissimilar to regret making itself known.)
he knows lottie likes safety, she likes security, she likes the known, but he hadn't thought she'd have wanted to play it so safe. (no, he should have, he realises as he falls into step beside her. everything he knows of lottie outside her own four walls and occasionally his relies on her image. her perception. her marketability. rollercoasters might be fun, but they're not the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of lottie person's public image.
(too many uncontrollables.) )
Hmm, ( is what he manages to enunciate instead of the 'they're boring' that threatens to make itself known as commentary. ) Iconic how? ( go on, explain it to him. )
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But she doesn't explain that, either. Much like how Marc has already figured out why she wouldn't like it, as they walk Lottie is slowly piecing together how he'd like it. It's fast, exciting, controlled chaos whereas so much of Marc's like is uncontrollable chaos, taking everything by the horns and just hopinig something terrible doesn't happen.
(Like the kidnapping. Mostly, like, the kidnapping.)
She frowns, just in time for it to seem proper because he hmmms in that typical Marc way of his that lets her know he doesn't quite believe her. The fact she knows it makes her all the more irked when she comes back down to earth and sighs heavy, dramatically. He's skeptical, the man who supposedly googled so much yet only came up with one ride! She fans at herself, already sweating as they navigate through the crowd and towards the more futuristic branch of the park, where his Space Mountain is. ]
It just is.
[ C'mon Marc!! Get with the program!! ]
When people think of Disney they either think of Haunted Mansion, or the teacup ride. It's the one thing they promote the most outside of their parades.
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he doesn't quite know where she's leading him — and it is very much her leading him — and he doesn't know if he ought to be impressed or not by her awareness of the park, the fact that she's, to his knowledge, scrutinised the map once before heading off in whatever direction.
(no, deep-down he is impressed but he's that determined that this is about appeasing his guilt and making lottie — well, if not happy, something approaching it — that he can't quite acknowledge the effort that lottie's put into it all.
—and he's still stuck with her bag and her belongings, his own keys and phone shoved in a pocket. unceremonious and uncomfortable, the lining sticking to his legs. there's room in her bag, of course there is, but he'd wanted to prove a point.)
he almost entirely ignores everything she's said — haunted mansion this (he has one of those!), teacups that — in favour of brushing his slightly damp, sweaty hair away from his face. ignores the thought that maybe he should get a haircut and (finally) admits, bluntly— )
I didn't look up the rides.
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That admission only makes her perk up even more. And when she turns to look at him to say I knew it, it's right in time to catch him wiping the sweat at his hairline, swiping his hair up and away from his face.
So much for being impervious to the heatβ she turns away to keep the sight of her smirk growing at her lips, her own little secret, before tugging him forward to be the front of the train (he'll notice the area getting distinctly more futuristicβ or at least, Disney's version of it, lots of chrome and rockets, planets and spaceships). Entirely so she can get behind that backpack and zip it open for a handkerchief, one of the extras she brought in case her own got dirty.
(Something she would not be able to provide if it weren't for the backpack.. Take notes Marc!!) ]
So what did you look up then?
[ Because he says: the rides. Doesn't say he didn't look anything up, interestingly enough, which means when Lottie questions him it is less admonishing, more curious. It even means she's nicer when she puts the handkerchief (pink, lacey, an 'L' embroidered on the side in gaudy cursive) into his hand. ]
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(at most, marc would concede a visit to disneyworld with diatrice, but that trip will never happen, not with him.)
in his hands, he's prepared to grumble about the price of food, the length of queues, the everything of florida. lottie hasn't really given him that chance and it'd be ungracious of him. rude. he's quiet, pliant, albeit stiff, as she searches her backpack for god knows what, the action punctuated by a genuinely curious question. he huh?s, inelegant and surprised as a (frankly awful) handkerchief is pressed into his hand and he looks to lottie, his gaze meeting hers, questioning and doubtful.
(he's got a perfectly serviceable hand to wipe the sweat away, is what his expression says. I'm fine with heat is not the same as I don't sweat is the second, uncommunicable thought that hits him as the why she's given it to him dawns on him.)
he shoves it in a pocket and gestures, vaguely, at their increasingly sci-fi (of marc's childhood, really) surroundings. if he'd been asked, some thirty-odd years ago, what the future looked like, his answer would've been something like this.
(and he wonders, fleetingly, what lottie thinks of it all.) )
News articles. Important information. You know, anything we need to know.
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Because in Florida, really, that's all there is. Sun and oppressive humidity, hardly much wind, just an air of uncomfortable only amplified by the amount of people confined in the park with them and reduced by the misters around the park. They hit a Pizza Planet β marked by the giant cartoon space ship jutting from the top, pointed high in the sky, and an of the era retro sign that eerily reminds her of a paper cup.
She fans at herself, listens to him explain himself and thinks yup, that is definitely what Marc would look up. News articles. Important information. Anything they need to know. ]
Disney deaths? Myths?
[ She knows you Marc!! She knows that you would've gone down a rabbit hole of things that are lore adjacent rather than anything practical, like she did.
(Said by the person who now would only go to theme parks for a photo or two and leave. She went to too many when she was growing up, "family trips" that would end in disaster and either Lottie crying or everybody crying. Nothing about the memories are traditionally pleasant and she, often times, hated doing anything. Would have a tantrum and scream, have a fit, when her mother or sister's would try and coral her into a ride. As an adult, none of it is as scary as it was when she was younger. Or boring. Now it's just opportunities for her to make money and eat okay food in a pretty place.) ]
Lemme guess, Disney jail?
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(and he doesn't want to give lottie the satisfaction. not yet, anyway, not when the day's just started.)
disney deaths, she suggests, and he looks to her, sideways and askance, in a way that admits yes without him having to vocalise the word. of course that's what he looked up. disney jail, too, although he hadn't meant to and it'd just been where he ended up, a vague reminder that people like him aren't really welcome in places like disney. that there are a dozen ways this could end badly if marc's— well, if he's not on his best behaviour.
marc's familiarity with disney begins and ends with the eighties, punctuated by cultural touchpoints like mickey mouse. pizza planet sits on the cusp, feels like it should be familiar and recognisable, but utterly isn't. he mms vaguely in response, gaze sliding over the outside of the building, the lettering, the logo, thinks that the pizza's probably garbage and redirects his attention back to lottie. )
It's not anything to worry about.
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Only super drunk and unruly people go to Disney jail but also, Marc? Please be normal for once?! Her eyes scream this, unimpressed and trying very hard to get rid of it the second she realizes what she's broadcasting because the day's just started. She's not going to give Marc the satisfaction of getting upset, much like how he won't give her the satisfaction of feeling like a nice person for handing him her handkerchief. ]
Cool. Great to know..
[ Still, she can't help it if she sounds a little bratty. At the very least this doesn't stop their stride, allowing them both to make it to his Space Mountain in record time. Lottie, at the sight of the entrance, doesn't seem to be particularly enthused for anything other than the air conditioning insideβ it's easier to see when she breathes out a sigh of relief when they waltz in line, a dreamy look to her face. ]
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—it's not what he meant. maybe. there's a chance they're on different pages — when marc says it's not an issue, when he thinks he needs to be on his best behaviour (quote-unquote), he means moon knight. he means he's not going to run off (try not to) and he's not going to GET INVOLVED in anything unless he has to — and if he does, well, he's escaped from actual, non-disney jail before.
but he can't promise anything. there are never any guarantees when it comes to marc spector doing stuff. he says he'll do x and that he won't do y, but then when it comes to it, the opposite happens. he should know better than to make promises, but it's never managed to stop him.
still, they're there. at space mountain. it's not quite everything he'd imagined as a kid, a not-quite-teen who'd caught star wars in the cinema and then immediately snuck back in to see it again. his gaze shifts sideways, almost imperceptibly, and lottie doesn't seem to care either way. her expression shifts — pleasant, relaxed — as they step inside, as cool air washes over them and there's no mistaking it.
her expression is thanks for the aircon and not a surprising, sudden fondness for space-themed disney rides.
(is this how the day's going to go—.)
his attention shifts to the ride and to the queue, as the sinking realisation that they're going to be spending most of their day in some form of a line hits. he won't say it, but at least there is aircon. )
—So what did you look up? ( he asks, not bratty but still vaguely challenging. curious. )
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In comparison to her snippy attitude moments before, she looks calmer. The flush to her cheeks dull as a result, the heat always showing on her body before she can voice it (either through a red face, through her sweat, her irritation). Although she's looking more of a blue and purple now, the lighting within the building bathed in it to reflect how futuristic it is. They walk past different screens, all bright and blaringβ it makes for an interesting contrast of colors, content, when she glances at one depicting a drawing of space. ]
Moi? [ Is Marc being catty right now?? ] Food. Rides. What times the parades startβ
[ Photo ops go unsaidβ Lottie figures he must already know about that, just like how Lottie knows Marc is going to be stubbornly existing in his sweater. Lottie deliberately lingers beneath a vent, ushering Marc to join her.
(There's no one behind them, it's still early and everything is at a walk up at this point. And if people do wander in, they just walk around them or nod in understanding, happy they can skip one pair of people ahead of them.) ]
βstuff about your knock off Star Trek!
[ AKA.. Star Wars land. ]
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(or not, maybe marc would be aging himself. again.)
his expression is deliberately blank, devoid of anything truly discernible as she says 'food' (yeah, okay), 'rides' (eh), 'parades' (the fuck?) until she says 'knock off star trek' and he's—
shocked. surprised. astounded. all at once he's taken aback and at a loss for words because firstly, lottie remembered him mentioning star trek; and two — that's not true. star trek and star wars share similarities only in that they're set in space, star trek is about hope, about peace. star wars is—
—well, marc had been pre-pubescent when he'd seen a new hope. when he'd caught it in the cinema, been amazed and had snuck straight back in to watch the subsequent showing. when he'd muttered something to his dad about 'got the wrong show time' and his dad had looked at him with that expression that said he didn't believe him but wasn't about to argue. )
—They're different, ( is what he manages as a response, uttered in such a way that says he can't help himself. )
no subject
Lottie is not a fool. She knows what people must think of her in regards to he attention spanβ which is why she deliberately looks to Marc after she namedrops one of his shows. The one that they didn't watch but the one she picked up after a clip of Spock and Kirk being gay as hell went viral. She knows her even saying that instead of Star Wars would get a reaction, and boy.
Worth it. So very worth it, to see that on his face. She grins, all of a sudden, clearly satisfied in goading that out of him, not even bothering to school her expression into nonchalance like she usually would (because thinking of others? Cringe!!). ]
Duh. I'm saying Star Trek is the original!
[ Despite their differences, she means. Maybe because of their differences. After all, the people in Star Trek get cute ass outfits. What do the girls in Star Wars get? Brown drab floppy whatever the hell they're wearing?? Ew! ]
Star Wars is like the weird cousin.