( 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}
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
(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.
no subject
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?
no subject
(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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
—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. )
no subject
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. ]
no subject
(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.