ѕyмpтoмαтιc

taken from the first season of the netflix series

“i want to heal people.” 

“perhaps i could teach you to like people again.” 

“i think i might like you.” 

“perhaps i’ll say a prayer for her/him. a small one.” 

“be better than them.” 

“where is my wife/husband?” 

“i won’t let you do it.” 

“could i get some ale? sorry, it’s just that i think i’m sobering up.” 

“never met them.” 

“i think you know exactly who’s fault that is.” 

“i’m leaving.” 

“would you please leave my testicles alone?” 

“i’ve never lost a fight to man or fucking beast.” 

“oh shit.” 

“are you talking back to me?” 

“why don’t you go and get that looked at?” 

“last warning or this’ll get nasty.” 

“i’m out of practice but i’m stone cold sober. someone will get hurt.” 

“it sounds weirdly convenient to me, if you know what i mean.” 

“reflexes like a cat.” 

“god shit’s in my dinner once again.” 

“that was rude.” 

“i could pee in a bucket and tell him it’s beer.” 

“i don’t think i’m allowed into churches.” 

“if i enter the church and catch fire or something, it’s your fault.” 

“well tough shit.” 

“i brought you here to ask questions, not answer them.” 

“i swear it just moved.” 

“dying has never frightened me.” 

“oh for god’s sake.” 

“i didn’t do that.” 

“i fell down a hole.” 

“i know what you are.” 

“tell it to your floating vampire jesus here.” 

“you’ve got nothing but insults have you.” 

“stone the fuck up.” 

“please. this isn’t a bar fight, have some class.” 

dear god, please don’t let the vampire’s guts ruin my good tunic.” 

“i could still rip your throat out.” 

“living through it was just a luxury.” 

He feels like he’s missing something. Something big.

Something standing right in front of him.

Halting his footsteps, Alex turns a sharp glare back on the man who’d interrupted his attack on the dealer, and stares. Long enough to make him squirm. The guy looks scared out of his wits, but it’s not exactly difficult for Alex to incite that sort of reaction.

He blinks, his eyes flashing yellow with a sight type he hasn’t needed to use in years--but the man standing against the pawn shop wall remains in stark blue color and not the white-yellow of someone infected. Anticlimactic. Confusing. His instincts are rarely wrong.

What a perfectly good snack gone to waste.

He’s got enough biomass still left for it to not be worrying, but it’s still annoying.

“Marcus?” He asks, icy gaze snapping back up to the man. His expression pinches, gaze shifting quickly back to the body--he’d have the full damn name if he’d been able to consume this scumbag, but he guesses prodding his sister to dig around couldn’t hurt--before returning to the human. “...Thanks.”

She makes a face like that’s maybe not the answer she expected. Because it wasn’t. But, interesting. At least he was straight forward about it.

          “Okay.”

Perhaps this is time to turn around and leave, right? Any sane person would do that. Actually, a sane person wouldn’t of probably tried to strike up a conversation with this guy. After witnesses him murder and then, she was assuming, ate the guy. Or whatever.

But no one would ever claim Cathryn was sane.

( Not even Cathryn would. Ha. )

Alex’s lips twitch--barely, just barely--at the analogy. He’s got enough literary fanatics rattling around to understand the reference; more than enough to claim without a second’s hesitation that, yes, this is exactly a ‘Frankenstein’ kind of thing.

Alex Mercer was his Dr. Frankenstein. Zeus was the monster.

He supposes if the analogy holds true, at some point he’s going to meet his end, then--Frankenstein’s monster had, after all, been too monstrous to keep living.