Midnight Manor Private Residence, Saturday Night

[hasaknightjob]

Marc didn't want to talk to anybody. In general, really, but particularly not this weekend. With like two notable exceptions. But Marc often didn't get what he wanted so here he was on the phone with Layla.

"It's one thing if you don't want to take the time to see me when you're in town," Layla said.

"Steven and Watts were doing a thing!" Marc said. Which wasn't, yanno, not true. It just skipped over the other reason why Marc wanted to lay low that week.

"Which is fine," Layla told him, more firmly like she felt like he wasn't listening to her. "But if you're doing things in my territory - "

"What things?" Marc asked. He paced back and forth along the hallway of the first floor. Not that it did anything but it helped to get the energy out. "I wasn't there, remember?"

"Oh, so it was someone else?" It wasn't a video call but Marc could see the dubious look on Layla's face all the same. "Marc, I get it. You think you have to go it alone. But you could at least do me the courtesy of telling me something is going on where I live."

Marc blinked. And blinked again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Alexandria?" she prompted.

Marc frantically cast his thoughts back through anything that week. Yeah there'd been that blackout but Steven had just gone to sleep outside, right? It hadn't lasted long enough for -

"Layla," Marc said, now letting her hear some of his uncertainty. "Run it by me again. Tell me what you know like I don't know it."

There was a pause. When she spoke again, she sounded more patient. "There were reports of someone dealing with some smugglers over in Alexandria. Matching your description. Suit, moons, all of it."

Marc felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "When was - "

"Last night."

And now Marc was blinking again.

"Layla, we've been here all week." Okay, Watts and Steven had added a couple of days on the tail end there but they'd been back most of the week and that's what counted. "On the island."

"What?"

"All week," Marc said. Again, close enough since the point was last night. "Whoever the fuck people are telling you about, it's not me."

Marc could practically see her look of confusion. "Then who?"

"Maybe whoever told you is lying," Marc said. "Could be trying to fuck with you."

Marc didn't say that clearly fucking with her had worked but his tone kind of implied it.

"Good news is they overplayed their hand," Marc added, because he was trying to be slightly less of an asshole. "Now you know they don't know I'm not around. Might be something you could use."

"Maybe," she said, absently. Marc could tell she was trying to adjust to the new information.

"If you need help I'm there," Marc added. Again, trying to be less of an asshole. Also he would've gone to help her if he knew she needed it regardless of whether or not she asked.

"I'll let you know," she said. The way she said it made it clear she wasn't putting high odds on needing to make that phone call. "You swear it wasn't you?"

"Wasn't me," Marc said. He couldn't fault her for doubting his honesty. "If I'm doing shit in your neck of the woods I will tell you if it's something you need to know."

"Right," Layla said, with a flatness that suggested she'd been well aware of the conditional part of his statement. "Fine. I'll tell you if there's anything you need to know about what's going on."

Conditional for conditional. Not like Marc could judge. "Thanks."

Another pause as Marc actually using that word meant Layla needed a moment. There was a sound like maybe she was starting to say something, then changed her mind.

"Tell Steven I said happy birthday."

Marc winced. She said it sincerely, but he winced all the same.

"I will," Marc replied. He hung up before the conversation could go any further.

Marc then went to find Watts.

[for Watts]

Comments

[pocketpretzels]

Luckily Watts was not hard to find, poking his head out of the kitchen doorway.

"That- sounded serious," he noted.

[hasaknightjob]

"Someone's screwing with Layla," Marc said. He shoved his phone back into his pocket. "Saying I'm around when I'm not."

[pocketpretzels]

Something prickled at the back of Watts's mind, like there was a question he should be asking but couldn't quite place what it was.

"An impostor?" he asked with a frown instead.

[hasaknightjob]

"I think they're lying," Marc said. "According to her it was last night. And unless you and Steven are keeping something from me - "

Marc made a there ya go type gesture with his hand, since he didn't think Watts and Steven were holding out on the information that there'd been a double portal long blackout yesterday.

[pocketpretzels]

"Not inclined to keep secrets from you in general, let alone of that magnitude," Watts replied. Which Marc already knew, of course.

[hasaknightjob]

"Exactly," Marc said. "So someone's fucking with her. Don't know why. Maybe she pissed 'em off."

Marc sounded like he thought Layla pissing someone one off was a good thing.

[pocketpretzels]

"You sound like you think that's a good thing," Watts noted, echoing the narrative with a hint of amusement in his voice.

[hasaknightjob]

"If it's someone trying to fuck with her then she's pissing the right people off," Marc replied. "Good for her."

[pocketpretzels]

"I suppose that's one way to look at it," Watts agreed.

[hasaknightjob]

"Least it wasn't us," Marc said. "No Khonshu bullshit like last time."

[pocketpretzels]

"Very true," Watts nodded. "Can I interest you in a drink?" he asked, nodding back in the direction of the kitchen, where there was definitely more than just a drink waiting.

[hasaknightjob]

"I was gonna get one if you didn't," Marc told him.

[pocketpretzels]

"I've just the thing," Watts said, snapping his fingers. As if it were happenstance and not an actual tradition at this point.

[hasaknightjob]

Pretending it wasn't was also part of the routine, and Marc appreciated that. He took a seat at the island, because being informal about everything was the name of the game. "Harder than wine?"

[pocketpretzels]

"Harder than wine," Watts promised, producing a bottle of Irish whiskey and a couple of glasses. "Neat, or over ice?" he asked.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc considered. There were a couple of warring preferences, not the least of which was a strong desire to have his drink straight up. But he went with, "Ice. Thanks."

[pocketpretzels]

It wasn't as if the whiskey needed to be rationed, there was a whole bottle of it after all.

A few ice cubes went into each glass, followed by the whiskey itself. Watts slid Marc's glass over to him and then went and got the pie from where it had been cooling on the counter, dishing out two slices before finally taking a seat at the island across from Marc. "Here you are, then."

[hasaknightjob]

Marc took a swallow even though his drink hadn't had a chance to get cold yet. He pulled his pie plate closer. "New?"

They usually were for this, but never hurt to check given the memory issues.

[pocketpretzels]

"New," Watts nodded. "And definitely not vegan." Not that that had ever stopped Marc from foraging for leftovers, but as this was specifically for Marc, no reason to make that a concern.

(Except, of course, it meant no leftovers for Steven to sneak, but he'd have a cake of his own tomorrow so Watts didn't feel particularly bad about that.)

[hasaknightjob]

If the Thanksgiving butter tarts didn't have actual butter Marc might have a strong opinion about it. Just saying.

"Thanks" Marc said again. Watts got stuff like that out of him pretty easily. "And, yanno - "

Marc made a vague gesture with his fork to indicate the concept of them sitting together. As opposed to Watts and Steven doing something on a Saturday night.

[pocketpretzels]

The actual-butter butter tarts were also specifically meant for Marc, and were also a permanent fixture of Watts's Thanksgiving baking.

"You're welcome," Watts said with nothing more effusive than a nod in regards to that second part. Because it meant a great deal to him that Marc would, in fact, make an appearance during what was generally Steven's time. Only saying that might make it weird, so he didn't.

[hasaknightjob]

Marc took a forkful of pie and then nodded approval for how it tasted. Not that he was some kind of dessert connoisseur but the pie sure didn't suck so, yanno.

"I think someone's just fucking with her," Marc said. Because on multiple levels this counted as not talking about himself and he was all for that. "Nothing we gotta worry about."

[pocketpretzels]

"Someone who knows who you are," Watts mused, around a bite of his own. "Or more specifically knows of Moon Knight. And your connection with Ms El-Faouly."

[hasaknightjob]

"Wasn't much of a secret, Layla and me working together," Marc said. Ignore him taking another swig of his drink there, it was fine. "Khonshu thing - if it's people dealing with any of that stuff already it's not too much of a stretch. Not like there's a shit ton of avatars running around."

Even still. As far as Marc and Layla knew anyway.

Well, as far as Layla knew. Not like Marc had been looking into it.

[pocketpretzels]

"But from my understanding, the avatars are not exactly- high profile," Watts pointed out.

Certainly nothing like the Avengers, who even if they were technically disbanded, still had tributes and toys and musical theatre productions keeping them in the public eye.