aubergines | ( #001 ) LOVE MARKED

[He finally sits up again at that, nearly giving off physical plumes of smoke, he's so furious.]

Because it hurts to lose someone you love Petre. Pain. Imagine getting punched in the face. Then stick that right in your chest and twist it up into a knot. That's emotional pain. I know it's hard, but just try to imagine it.

[And then, more quietly:]

No. Of course not.

[He doesn't openly laugh in John's face, but the grin is still there. Watching him like a parent watching children play. It's the natural order of things.]

Good. Pain means you're alive. No matter what kind it is.

I'm definitely alive right now, then. Thanks for your concern. Don't need a jumpstart.

[Glaring right at him now instead of turning away. Like he could ever win a staredown between them, but he's trying.]

[Petre isn't even remotely concerned.]

Yes you do.

[he motions with his hand, mimicking the gesture of clicking a lighter on.]

Consider me it.

[Fury slowly giving way to dangerous calm, he licks his lips and looks away.]

Another homeless mutant. We ended up at the same shelters a lot.

[He could just slide back to his bed and sit down, couldn't he? Of course. But he hangs around still.]

Name?

Siobhan. [Through gritted teeth.] I never knew her last name.

And she still left a mark.

[Pretty powerful stuff. Or just was just that weak. He doubts it, though.]

What was her power?

[A mark. What a cute turn of phrase. It makes the bile rise in his throat.]

Empathy. Broadcasting and receiving.

Ah.

[He shifts like he understands it a little better. A lot better, actually.]

That makes a lot of sense.

What, why?

[He narrows his eyes. What does Petre think he knows so well about John?]

What else would mess around with your head like that?

[...because there's no such thing as true love. Only the manipulation of chemicals in your brain.]

For fu -

[And he glares away again.]

- if you told me right now, under your total control, that I had to be in love with you, nothing'd show up. It doesn't work that way.

Because that's not how my power works.

It's not how broadcasting works, either. Did you think Ryan's thoughts were yours when you hung out with him? [He rolls his eyes, finally regaining some control and stepping back from anger to dismissal.] Don't be a dumbass.

That's now how empathy works, either. [a beat. Petre's pretty confident in his words, so much that it doesn't even sound like he's arguing.] Manipulation of the chemicals in your brain to match hers. That's pretty much it, isn't it?

So you asked about my mark to try and prove it wrong. [His mouth draws into an unimpressed line.] That's a new level of arrogance, even for you.

That's not why I asked.

What are you doing, then? Obviously trying to prove something.

Just making sense of things. It makes sense to me. Didn't it make sense to you?

It's made sense for a long time. She didn't warp my brain, Petre. She -

[His throat closes off, and he looks away again with a shaky breath.]

Maybe not intentionally. [Hm. He finally sits down, seriously thinking about it. This is more like solving a puzzle than necessarily poking at John to see if he'll catch fire.] In any case, you were pretty young.

[Very susceptible.]

Don't condescend to me. [His tone turns icy.] Like you know anything about it. There's not a single mark on your arm and there never will be.

Exactly. Is there anyone better to look at it from a purely objective perspective?

You can't be objective about love, jesus. It's not scientific. It's not math. You have to feel something before you can understand it.

[Jabbing a finger in his direction. Unlike you.]

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