i’m sorry for what you’ve been through. i’m really, really sorry. // @greatestarcher
Scott’s life hadn’t been private in a long time now. When they were teenagers, they’d played at having secret identities. They wore masks, they gave each other new names, they put on uniforms. They’d only ever been kidding themselves, really. Hank and Warren were instantly recognizable due to the physical manifestations of their mutations, and Scott wasn’t far off with his bright red glasses. And these days? His life was more public than ever. That was an unavoidable side effect, he guessed, of a public death in Central Park.
So, people knew things about him. People knew most things about him, really. He’d always known that.
Typically, when they approached him about it, it was to... pass judgement. About who he was, about the DNA that differed from theirs, about the article he’d published in the Bugle after his resurrection. It wasn’t with kindness. It wasn’t to apologize. But people surprised him, sometimes.
He blinked, uncertain. “Oh,” he said quietly, shifting his weight. “That’s... Um. Thank you?” He’d never been good at this, at people. He’d never known what to say. “I’m not... I, uh, I appreciate. That.”
