#mark: thread

McElroy Ask Meme Series

"Well,” he sighed at the idea of talking about his illegal activities, “If you don’t own something then it technically can’t get repossessed. Now can it?” 

If anything, it would just be stealing something that’s already stolen. Mark tightened his grip on the steering wheel as if it would prevent Hank’s truck from being taken out from under him. He constantly rehearsed what he would say to the police if he got pulled over. No one was missing it but he had been driving it around for so long that getting caught felt inevitable.

“To further counter your point, I don’t think Canada has any debtor’s prisons... What has you thinking of prisons anyway?” It would be hypocritical of him to tell her to stop thinking about the worst that could happen.

→ SMUTTY STARTERS

Mark liked to think that they were getting better at this whole sex-thing. The books and articles helped him find his way around but he’d probably benefit from watching one or two carefully selected videos. At the very least, watching a few famous movie sex scenes would give him a better sense of what else they could be doing. It didn’t occur to him that she might be more educated than him or be the one to suggest something new. Not that he suggested new things, his suggestions were hardly radical, they were always slight changes in position and nothing more.

“You always make me feel good.” His hands rested on her waist, his thumbs stroking random patterns on her milky-white skin. Soft lips brushed against her neck and he placed a trail of kisses down to her collarbone.

Helena snorted, rolling her eyes. “You look like you escape from very bad seminary, I look like homeless-refugee–” she parroted the words she’d heard the teenagers whispering when they thought she couldn’t hear–”and you think we will blend in? This is joke, yes?”  Turning, she rested her hand on the window glass. Facing away from the people meant she couldn’t feel them staring at her–and she couldn’t growl at them till they looked away, either. That was probably good.

Soon, they would be up in the air. But first was takeoff. Her favorite part, when the ground dropped away and the entire plane seemed to be falling, before it was caught, as if by a great Hand, and borne aloft on its great metal wings.

It was as close as she would come to flying.

Maybe, it was as close as she would come to God.  

“Mmmmm,” Helena muttered. She pulled the packet of peanuts–swiped from the cart at the back when they boarded–from her pocket and tore them open with her teeth. Around a mouthful of the salty nuts, she said, “Sestra Alison would not fly with you in eleven million years, брат.”  But, if that’s what it took to keep people from staring at them–

She swallowed the peanuts–hopefully not too loudly–and rested her head on Mark’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around his arm. In her cheeriest voice, she said, “We’ll be there soon, yes, hus–dear…honey…lambchop?” She sounded ridiculous, even to herself–but they were going flying–and suddenly she’d pressed her face against Mark’s shoulder to muffle her giggles.

This was going to be a disaster.  

“How many of those did you steal?” He hissed, narrowing his eyes at her. Mark couldn’t get mad for long, it was hard to be mad at Helena’s childlike attitude. Sometimes she didn’t know any better and he had to constantly remind himself of that.

“Okay, you know what? If anyone tries talking to you, just say something in Ukrainian and they’ll stop trying to talk to you. It’ll make things easier for us. We look suspicious enough already.” Clothing wise, he didn’t have much to work with. Most of the time Mark was fairly good at flying under the radar and going undercover as a Prolethean felt natural to him, this was different. He didn’t have much time to plan and there were very few resources available to them. The religious Ukranian wife and conservative husband act would have to do. His thoughts were broken by the ‘lambchop’ comment and the warmth from her face made a small smile spread across.

“Why are you smiling all the time? It’s kind of creepy.” Mark squinted at Krystal, trying to figure out the cause behind all her smiling. It seemed like whenever they talked, she found something to smile about. How could someone smile over absolutely nothing? He led such a sad life and there she was smiling it up like it was no one’s business.

“Like, what are you thinking about in there? Murder or something?” He asked with a little laugh.

The three month old baby wiggled in Mark’s arms and he smiled down at her with a big grin on his face which mirrored her own. Before all this, he rarely smiled but now he had his own life. Or at least, an illusion of his own life. Gracie was at DYAD again to have lab work done and he had to stay at the motel to keep watch over little Clara. No one knew the baby existed except for the Clone Club (including Mrs. S and Felix), both Gracie and Mark guarded her with their lives at all time.

He turned away from the door for a moment with Clara in his arms and when the door opened behind him, he assumed it was Gracie. Shifting her around in his arms, he turned back around to face the door and the smile immediately faded from his face. Mark’s face went white and the baby's smile faded a little as she wiggled again, as if sensing that something was amiss. When he tightened his grip on her, she tried to turn her head towards the door to see what was happening.

“Jesus Christ! Why can’t you leave me alone? Look, I’m not talking to you so go find someone else to harass, Detective.”