@devianttm // cont.
Not feeling pain has its perks, but perhaps the fact that Markus hasn’t realized he was covered in blood and thirium until he saw Connor’s face is not one of them. With some surprise, he raises a hand to his face; he registered the small leak almost subconsciously, was waiting for it to repair itself, but he was not aware of the human blood.
“Not much,” he answers, wiping his hand on the edge of his coat. (He’s been wearing it since before the revolution ended; with all its holes and older stains, a little more doesn’t change its appeal. Though, now that he ought to fight for android rights more peacefully, perhaps he’d better get something more presentable than what used to be his war uniform.) “It was a protester.”
It’s strange to say that. Not long ago, androids were the protesters; now it’s humans who are disgruntled with the acquired freedom of those who used to be their slaves. “Apparently he bruised his knuckles on me – I didn’t notice. He ran away when he realized I’m not reacting.” He gives a small shrug.
















