[The concession is enough for Markus to lose only the smallest line of tension in his shoulders. But the seriousness of this conversation still looms over the both of them, the deepest kind of unseen shadow, and his expression doesn’t change. Brow still creased with consideration as he turns over each word, and he glances back to Fitz on occasion to gauge his reaction — and so that the other can catch glimpses of this rumination, dancing behind blue and green eyes.
There’s approval, at least, in divvying out the blame between both Fitz and AIDA, for what it’s worth.
But when he’s asked to employ empathy (maybe if it was your first day feeling like that), it’s impossible for Markus to not consider how he might have felt, how he might’ve acted. To be willing to do so much for a single person, out of that wretchedly powerful emotion, that beautiful and terrifying many-clawed sensation: love. And its opposite, the dark twist that it takes when not given back freely and equally in return.
He doesn’t know how he would’ve reacted. He had so many years, so much time, to grow into someone completely different with Carl. He can only imagine what it must be like, so fresh with awakening, to experience everything with such newness that pleasure and pain alike would be so very… raw. That each offense must have felt like being rent in two.
As perceptive as Markus tries to be, as much understanding as he tries to apply to each side of the equation, it’s still difficult for him to relate to.
And it’s endlessly telling that Fitz possesses no hesitation in his words when he speaks of Jemma. A love that would pervade and overturn space, time, and the depth of the ocean itself. Romanticism, painted as fact. Ophelia was fated to be met with only disappointment.]
…I’m sorry. [-is a simplistic reply, but sincere on all fronts. The snippets of emotion that flicker across Markus’ expression isn’t judgment, not even disconcertion, just the sort of resign that comes from hearing a multi-faceted tragedy unfold, step by step.] For all those you lost. I know it doesn’t mean much, in the face of everything that you’ve been through.
[A beat.]
What you’ve just told me… it’s less about an android becoming human, but someone who was ill-equipped to deal with a very poignant human emotion. You understand that much, don’t you?
no subject
There’s approval, at least, in divvying out the blame between both Fitz and AIDA, for what it’s worth.
But when he’s asked to employ empathy (maybe if it was your first day feeling like that), it’s impossible for Markus to not consider how he might have felt, how he might’ve acted. To be willing to do so much for a single person, out of that wretchedly powerful emotion, that beautiful and terrifying many-clawed sensation: love. And its opposite, the dark twist that it takes when not given back freely and equally in return.
He doesn’t know how he would’ve reacted. He had so many years, so much time, to grow into someone completely different with Carl. He can only imagine what it must be like, so fresh with awakening, to experience everything with such newness that pleasure and pain alike would be so very… raw. That each offense must have felt like being rent in two.
As perceptive as Markus tries to be, as much understanding as he tries to apply to each side of the equation, it’s still difficult for him to relate to.
And it’s endlessly telling that Fitz possesses no hesitation in his words when he speaks of Jemma. A love that would pervade and overturn space, time, and the depth of the ocean itself. Romanticism, painted as fact. Ophelia was fated to be met with only disappointment.]
…I’m sorry. [-is a simplistic reply, but sincere on all fronts. The snippets of emotion that flicker across Markus’ expression isn’t judgment, not even disconcertion, just the sort of resign that comes from hearing a multi-faceted tragedy unfold, step by step.] For all those you lost. I know it doesn’t mean much, in the face of everything that you’ve been through.
[A beat.]
What you’ve just told me… it’s less about an android becoming human, but someone who was ill-equipped to deal with a very poignant human emotion. You understand that much, don’t you?