sunshine and cyanide | moon knight

VII. marc spector

She felt a little sorry for leaving Layla behind but she didn't have the time to look for her. She needed to ensure the Scarab was secured and maybe she was eager to get more information from Steven, too.

Also after seeing how Layla had handled herself back in the warehouse she wasn't worried about her. The woman was able to take care of herself. Not everyone had the guts to stand up against Harrow and his cult without the seething rage that had built up over years.

She knocked again when no one responded.

"I know you're home. Open the door." It was a bluff, of course, there was no way for her to know. Even if Steven was at home, the bloke was of the silent sort. The man often shuffled quietly through the corridors and the streets of London, as if he didn't dare to make a sound. As if something bad would happen if he was drawing attention to himself.

There were steps, heavy steps, approaching the door and the rattling of one of the chains before the door was opened wide and James was met with the sight of Steven Grant.

Or what was supposed to be Steven Grant if it wasn't for... everything about him.

The alarm bells rang in her head at the familiar feeling in her gut. The same feeling she had had when the man had asked her to feed his goldfish just a few days ago and then again when he'd come to collect his keys. A feeling that she hadn't been able to shake off until she'd seen Steven while bringing out her trash the night he went on that date...

It's alright if I talk to Marc, right?

That's what Harrow had said. He had called him Marc. The same name Layla had used when she had addressed Steven.

The man opened his mouth, eyebrows drawing together as he gave her what was probably supposed to be a serious look but James didn't wait to see what he would tell her. She pushed past him and into his apartment.

Unlike Steven earlier he didn't wheeze or call out in surprise and he wasn't scrambling off to the side either. He simply took a step backwards and let a sigh pass his lips before he closed the door again.

James quickly surveyed the flat, eyes narrowing down on the opened gym bag on Steven's bed, folded shirts and pants laying next to it on the bed.

Another trip?

The man waited patiently before James turned around again, neither questioning nor prodding her. Granted he didn't look very patient with his arms crossed in front of his chest and the deep frown that he called a face. It made his features look harsher than they usually did, more angular shaped and edged.

"You're not Steven are you?"

He looked mildly surprised as if he had expected her to ask something else instead but then he shook his head, schooling his expression.

"No." The American accent.

Method acting... yeah right.

James raised her eyebrows, eyes shifting to examine the man's body more closely. He had already changed his clothes and switched out Steven's grey work jacket for one more military style. It was funny how vastly different their style of clothing was, too.

Marc liked to roll his sleeves up while Steven always wore them down, fabric often long enough to slip over his hands. She's never even seen his forearms before this man. And was his hair styled differently, too?