[ marcus sighs through his nose the second billy puts a hand on him, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes and tensing up tight. his expression is caught between something mildly unpleasant and reluctantly reassured, and the more billy talks, the further stuck marcus feels. it's good to have someone on his side, here, who fully and completely comprehends the weight of what lin might be telling him to carry - but he unfairly wishes billy's attempts to guide him were more convincing. all this is doing is making marcus less and less sure of what to do. the reminder of lin's particular brand of ruthlessness really isn't helping.

marcus is getting restless, so he drops onto his back again, rolling onto his opposite side, this time, so that he can look directly at billy instead of curl away from him. he's not really thinking when he reaches his hand out to hook a finger in billy's pocket, just blindly searching out that physical connection, that tether. little gestures like this have come a lot easier to him, since arriving in duplicity. turns out being devoid of kind, human touch for nine years of your life and then being thrown into a city that thrives on physical intimacy fucks up a person. ]

There's every reason to believe he'll kill me for disobeying implicit orders. Every reason to believe he'll kill me for blindly following them.

[ marcus has a splitting headache, and he squints his eyes like he's staring at the sun, even though all he's really staring at is the dust on the metal floor they're sitting on and the pasty pale leg of his best friend from home. he tugs more insistently on billy's pocket, like he's asking for something, but he has no idea what that something could be. ]

He's supposed to be my teacher. He's supposed to guide me. I don't feel very fucking guided right now.