I just had the funniest image i my head and had to share it with you. What if after Marc left/Steven took over, Layla visited the museum Steven works at, maybe to scope it out for an artefact or she needed a distraction from her husband going missing. she looks around and it reminds her of home, she even goes to the gift shop and gets something. but where is Steven i hear you ask? Well either it’s his day off, or he’s out back doing inventory, but months later when Layla meets Steven, he tells her he used to work there and they realise their paths almost crossed, it was just bad timing
You mean.. you've been there? The museum, I mean, my museum. Well, it's not mine really, but-
"The British Museum, yes Steven. More than once, but it was for work mostly. I didn't stick around for long."
I think I'd remember seeing someone as beautiful as-
Alright, alright, I think we're done here.
Marc gently nudges his way to the front, cutting Steven off before he can swoon over his wife any more than he already has. Because the thing is, as much as he shares with Steven now, there are some stories that he tries to keep to himself.
Like how his surveillance on Layla's apartment had become a little more.. advanced after the first week or so. Nothing crazy like cameras or hacking into her email, he knew better than to try anything like that. She was too quick to pick up on it, anyway.
But he did keep an eye on her inner circle, keeping tabs on the seedier channels looking to steal Egyptian artifacts and the articles of the academics trying to protect them. When things started to line up and Marc suspected that Layla might be paying them a visit, he found a very convenient excuse for why Steven wouldn't be making it to work that day.
He remembers sitting in Steven's flat alone, watching the clock. Counting down the minutes until the hour the museum closed was long past. It was slightly more bareable, not having to think about how close he would've been to her, how he could've reached out for her again.
Thing is, now she was sitting in front of him, drinking her coffee like he'd watched her do a thousand mornings before. And she was smiling at him. And Steven was nagging him, in a halfhearted sort of way, so they went back to lazily dipping in and out of the conversation, their presence brushing past each other as they took their turns, a comfort they'd both grown accustomed to.
For awhile, everything just fell into place like that. It was something Marc could get used to.
