bakerstreet | listen to your heart 😌

listen to your heart 😌

"Can You Handle Your Emotions?"

Emotions are... eh. We all have them, whether we want to or not. Some people have control over their emotions, and some people let their emotions control them. Where does your character fall on this spectrum? More importantly, what's their relationship with their emotions like? Do they bury everything deep, deep down inside, or are they the first one to cry over a sappy movie? Do they even know how they feel about what's going on inside? Pretty meta stuff.

No blank top-levels.
Instead, characters are to respond to the proposed question: can you handle your emotions? / are you in touch with your feelings?
Get deep. Look within. Hear, think feel... or don't.

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Yeah, I bet.

[Hank studies him, curious.]

How long have you been, uh... alive? I bet it's been nothing but all revolution all the time since then, huh? No wonder you're starting to freak out.

I came online three years ago. [Two and quiet years before his life was changed. Since Jericho, since finding the others. It passed so quickly.] It was nothing I was created for.

I began as a caretaker for an artist, now I find myself taking care of all Androidkind. [So yes. Freaking out.

But talking to Hank, petting his dog, it has helped ground him.]

[Well, Markus is the most impressive three year old Hank's ever met. He'd probably sound like a dick if he said so.]

Yeah, bet it's a little different now.

[Hank pushes himself up, making his way toward the kitchen. He's not so far gone that he'd go for hair of the dog in front of fucking Markus, but if he's going to keep talking a guy who's got his shit more together than Hank's ever going to again through how to let loose, he needs something.]

So, did you like all the art stuff with that guy? Or does it just make you think of being... you know, factory mode?

More than a bit. [Markus pets Sumo once more before standing to follow him. His head tilts, expression curious.] Factory mode?

Yes, when I learned what art was. At first I simply copied what I had seen. Carl said it lacked soul. [His expression turns pensive. He misses him so much.] He taught me how to really paint.

I enjoyed it.

[He bends down to the cabinet to get the coffee and the filters, turning to study Markus as he straightens up.]

So, good memories, then? Of the guy who, uh... owned you?

[His tone doesn't carry anything but curiosity, and maybe a little hesitation. It's a pretty personal question, he knows that, but this conversation's gotten pretty personal on both sides, and Markus doesn't seem like the type to take it too bad if Hank ends up stepping out of line.]

I'd think something from back when you were factory mode -- fresh out of the box, pre-deviation, whatever you guys are calling it -- that that'd ruin the whole thing for you a little bit. How do you feel about the painting now? Still like it?

They were peaceful ones. Carl could be.. difficult on a good day. But he was good to me, he wanted me to learn, to be better.

[Mention of his deviation, his moment of choice, gives him pause. Leo was a broken man and everyone suffered for it. Slowly he shakes his head.] It hasn't changed those memories.

[Markus sits at the little kitchen table, resting his hands on the worn wood.] I haven't had a moment to myself since to see if I do still like to paint.

Well, that's the first step to getting all that stress out before you explode, or whatever. Gotta figure that out.

[He gestures at Markus with the filter before taking out the old one, crossing to the cabinet with the trash can to throw it away. This would be a whole lot easier with one of those modern machines where you just have to press the button and then the coffee makes itself, but that's exactly why Hank always insisted on having an old one. Oh, it's so much easier is how they get you.

It works out okay right now, in any case; the question he's about to ask is an awkward one, and it's nice to be able to turn toward the sink to fill up the water reservoir while he asks it. That's not going to hide how awkward he feels asking it, but at least he can kind of pretend it does.]

You got the, uh, supplies for that? Canvas and paint and all that stuff? I know some of you guys have jobs already but I'm pretty sure no one's paying you for saving the world, so if you need some extra cash to help out with the uh, hobby thing...

[He shrugs, a quick, uncomfortable movement, ducking his head to stare down at the sink. It's not offering a guy a little personal loan that feels so weird, exactly, so much as who that guy is. It feels a little like offering to spot Mother Teresa a couple hundred, like the offer's presuming something Hank's got no right to. It's okay if it is; wouldn't be the first time Hank said something dumb to someone he shouldn't, and it wouldn't be the last. Just feels weirder than he wants it to in the moment.]

[It's oddly soothing to sit in the little kitchen and watch Hank make a pot of coffee. Simple pleasures, that's what Carl had told him about. Maybe this was one of them. Here he only has to be Markus, not the savior of his people and leader of a revolution.

Hank would object, no doubt, but he needs to know that what he's offering still matters.

He watches the lines of his shoulders, the self-conscious duck of his head. Markus smiles quietly.] Unfortunately revolution is not a paying position.

I would.. I would like that Hank, very much. Thank you.

[Hank's posture relaxes immediately, even if he has to take a second to take in the way Markus accepted the offer just like that, no argument or polite dismissal like he'd mostly expected. It's... nice, he decides, it'd probably be nice if androids managed to avoid the dumb shit that makes it so hard for humans with their stupid squishy lizard brains to accept it when someone wants to help, all that stupid pride and shame.]

Great. That's great.

[He aims a crooked, relieved smile at Markus and goes to pour the water into the pot, nodding at where Sumo's lumbering into the kitchen. ]

Hey, you really want him to like you, you should get him some treats out of the cabinet over there. Fair warning, though, every time he sees you after he's going to be expecting another one.

[Markus's smile warms as Sumo lumbers in after him, his voice quietly hopeful.] You would let me come back?

[The little house is the closest to a home Markus has ever known. He would love to come back again to pet Sumo and to talk to Hank.] I'd like that, to give him some treats, but to come back again.

You told me to find a place away from the revolution.

I.. I think I have found it.

[Hank's already opening his mouth to respond to the first thing, but when Markus goes on he drops the measuring spoon back into the coffee grounds and leans back against the counter, holding onto it and looking shocked.]

Here? You're kidding. I mean, uh, of course you can come by whenever, just... give me some warning so I can clean up, but-- tell me you're gonna find other uh, other places you can go too, not just this boring old dump.

[This can't be the only place this guy goes to relax. If it was he'd be here all the time. Then where is Hank going to go the next time he wants to sit in his kitchen getting blind drunk in his underwear?]

[Markus's answering smile is thin. Finding a quiet, safe place hasn't been easy since the revolution began. Of course he would hesitate.] I promise I won't impose much. You have your own life to live, you have your job.

[Sumo chuffs and shoves his muzzle under Markus's hand.] Yes, and he has you too, Sumo.

[Hank's mouth is open for a second, then it closes and he sighs, watching Markus petting his dog. He feels like an asshole now. But-- well.]

You sure you want to, though? Weird to think a guy like you wants to come here more than once, let alone... I don't know, seeing a place like this as a... a sanctuary.

[Right away he hurries to follow that up with something that's not as embarrassing to hear himself say out loud.]

Or a vacation home, or whatever. There's got to be better places you can go I mean, I bet there's a ton of people even just in the city beating down your door who've got nicer places than I do, more to do, better company. You don't have to hide out any more y'know, you could do anything you wanted now.

That's the problem. They're beating down doors because they have an agenda. You let me in because Connor no doubt asked you to.

[Carl and Hank would have been friends, he thinks.] Talking to you, it's honest. I don't need a nicer place, I never did. I need people who can help me by being honest, even when that honesty isn't pretty.

So I fully expect you to tell me no when you don't want company. [There's another small smile. Markus is used to dealing with cranky humans.]

[Hank looks down for a second with a soft huff of breath and a wry smile.]

You want me to be an asshole, huh? First time anyone's told me that. But look, that's why you need more than one place you can go. I...

[He looks away again, tilting his head back and forth in a frustrated, reluctant kind of way. The weird thing about this conversation, though, is that now he's had it he's pretty sure Markus needs to hear stuff like this. That's not something he would have expected before. But if that's true he's got to say it, even if this whole baring your soul thing doesn't actually feel like it gets any easier just because he keeps doing it.

Hank can do it, though, even if the run-up to this kind of honesty feels like pushing through six feet of dirt over his mouth. His voice is low, honest, and after a second he even meets Markus's eyes.]

...I admire you, Markus. Even while we were... you know, trying to track you down. But even more after. You -- the stuff you're doing, the stuff you have done -- it makes me feel like... like maybe things can get better. Like maybe... maybe I get to be a little part of that, too. If I don't screw it up. So I owe you, Markus. I owe you a whole hell of a lot. Even if we've never met.

[He purses his lips, runs his tongue over his teeth. Takes a breath, letting all the shit he just dug up start to settle. His voice is at least sort of casual when he speaks again.]

So I've gotta know you've got some place else you can relax if I have to tell you to buzz off. Wherever it is you're staying now, that won't work? You think the other androids won't leave you alone?

[That confession does not come easily and Markus smiles.]
Thank you.

They've lived their entire existence with direction and orders. Some are struggling with the idea of freedom. They need my help to understand that deviation isn't a bad thing.

And we don't exactly sleep. [But it's all said with a small smile because Markus knows it's where he belongs.] I will find time to be alone, though. Maybe to paint again. That sounds nice.

[He also doesn't wish to wear out his welcome in this little house, or with Hank and his dog.]

You are a part of this, you know. We wouldn't be where we are without humans and androids coming together. What we're doing, it's about more than just me. It's about all of us.

[Hank's looking down, gaze absent as he listens, nodding a little -- the free androids are kind of clingy right now, makes sense -- and then Markus starts talking about him, and Hank looks up again. His smile is small and real, appreciative, maybe a little wry; Markus might be feeling the pressure of being in charge but he's a natural at it. Weird to hear a little bit of that inspirational-speaking magic the guy's already known for right here in his kitchen, for an audience of one.]

Yeah. Yeah, it is.

[Weird, to feel something like hope burning in his chest again. He wants to say something to break the mood, some grim joke about how they're going to need all the help they can get, but that's not what Markus needs to hear right now so Hank's just going to have to deal with feeling all exposed and vulnerable for a minute. He can turn around and look away, at least, so he does, turning back to the coffee machine again.]

Now let me finish making this and you can tell me what's really going on for you guys up there, Connor doesn't tell me shit.

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listen to your heart 😌

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and that's a wrap