@hightabled: what's it like to be you?
seated across from the marquis, the air running thick with tension, the question puzzles him. john had never been one for introspective, but the question lingered in his mind— what was it like to be him? a man of few words, allowing his actions to continuously speak volumes for him, but now he finds himself seeking an answer. hickory irises glancing up, taking note of the smug smirk playing at the corners of the man's mouth, john can't help but scoff— even while attempting to bite it back. “ it's... complicated. ” he finally speaks, voice low & measured— everything is calculated in this room. how quickly he can reach for the gun resting in the holster on his belt, how fast he can kick the coffee table in front of them upwards if the marquis were to aim his first— everything has to be measured with this encounter. “ it means being ready for the next fight, the next danger. it means carrying the past on my shoulders. ” the people he's lost, the things he's done.
looking down at his hands, he recollects the countless lives he had taken throughout the years— as the baba yaga & the quest for revenge. [no matter how hard he scrubbed, the blood on his hands never truly washed away. no matter how hard he tried.] eyes flicking back up to meet the other's gaze, he takes a deep breath; an attempt to shake off the edge that threatened to consume him. “ that's your answer. what it's like to be me. ” he doesn't extend the courtesy of the same question to the other— john doesn't care to know the answer.













