11838/Elephant in the Room

Elephant in the Room
Date of Scene:	01 July 2022
Location:	Dormitory 02 - The Midnight Mission
Synopsis:	Feelings are exposed, discussed, and decisions are made. And yes, the elephant in the room is addressed.
Cast of Characters:	Layla Abdalla El-Faouly, Marc Spector

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Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
The mission is done, multiple missions, really. Jon and Ma'at have been saved from evil Jonah (so has Ra for that matter). Khonshu has been released and Marc has his powers returned. Cael got to end Jonah and realize that she can be in control even when she's really really angry. They've returned to the city, to the Mission.

Layla had been quiet for a few days, keeping to herself and at least occasionally able to be heard talking, alone, in the room she'd co-opted. Likely to Taweret, she wasn't given to talking to herself. After those days, however, she seeks out Marc, hunting through the Mission until she can find him, or laying in wait for his return if he's gone out.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc didn't stick around after getting back from Egypt there were things he had to take care of, continguences he had to look into to see what michief Steven and Jake had stirred up when they were in control hile he was disrupted. But it only takes a few days before he returns to the Mission. He looks a bit weary but a great deal more energized than he was while bereft of Khonshu's mantle.

    He's dressed casually, jeans and a tee shirt with worn but comfortable boots, when he knocks on the door to the room he -believes- his wife is currently staying in. "Layla?" he asks, opening the door with a bit of hesitancy to not alarm the woman. "You in here?"

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla looks up from her satchel and offers a quick smile, "Hey Marc. Come on in." She glances around the room and smiles, "It's really your room, I've just been... squatting." Speaking of which, her satchel is packed and sitting on the bed. She moves it to the floor so she can take a seat and motions him to sit as well. "Looks like things are going better for you now. Glad to see you're back in action."

She puts the heel of one boot on the edge of the bed and drapes her arm over the top of her knee, "I wanted to make sure you were back in and settled before I took off. Make sure everything was going well, you know." Layla lifts a shrug and asks, "So... is everything going okay? Everyone seems mostly back to normal?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc settles on a chair and nods. "Mostly" he says. "It's strange. Things are... shifting. I can't tell how or why but Khonshu's power is... different now? That thing at the temple, the wrapping suit thing and the flight. I've never been able to fly... not unassisted at the very least."

    "And in here..." he says rubbing at his temple. "Things are... strange too. I don't know how else to describe it. It's like a storm in my head. I'm aware of Steven and Jake but... I can't... I can't talk to them like I usually am. They're... blocked off. We're aware of each other... but communication is... I don't know..." he smirks and shakes his head. "Where's a good therapist when you need him, huh?"

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
"It almost seems like maybe you got an upgrade. Which... I mean, I don't know why he wasn't passing that power to you to start with but... I'm glad." Layla offers a brief grin, "Looks like you won't need protecting anymore. Which means my mission's done too.." She glances around the room, then looks back to him, "I don't know where I'm going next. Not yet, anyways. Taweret says that something's bothering her but she hasn't been able to figure out what so she doesn't have a new assignment until she figures it out."

The mention of being cut off from Steven and Jake has her offering, "We can... still do that thing that Taweret offered. It should give you guys a chance to talk and maybe figure out what's blocking you from each other." Layla clears her throat and rubs her palm across her bent knee, "I don't... I don't know what to say. Anymore. Uh. It's... it's weird. I thought, initially, I would just be dropping off divorce papers for you to sign and file and then we'd be going our separate ways. But now... it looks like we're.. well... stuck, at least from a certain point of view, with each other." She blows out a breath and shakes her head, that lopsided smile appearing, "Or maybe it's just me, I don't know. But I figured I should get out of your hair so you aren't stumbling over me every day."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc rises and holds out a hand. "Layla you're not..." he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "You're not in my hair and I'm hardly stumbling over you..." He sighs drops his hand. "Stay... maybe not here but... nearby?" he asks. "I mean, I could use your help and..." He makes a face and paces a few feet to one side. "You'd think you having your own Egyptian goddess in your head would make this easier but no... nothing's -ever- easy."

    He takes a deep breath. "I have a team... the Heliopolitans. And... we could use someone like you on the crew. You've more than proven yourself... and... well..." He looks to one side and frowns again. His voice is softer for the next. "I'd like you to be nearby. I mean... I'm not going to make you... we've seen how my track record with that tends to go. But... I'd like it if you were around to help out with things. Here."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla watches him, one brow lifting up as a smile starts to creep across her face. Wrapping one arm around her bent leg, she watches him. "I don't get full say over where I'm sent Marc, you know that. But within the bounds of having to go where Taweret needs me to go... I can stick around. If it's not going to interfere. We've both got enough going on, I don't want to make things.. more difficult for you." Pushing up from the bed, she moves towards him, reaching out to grip one of his arms in each hand. Tilting her head to try and catch his gaze.

"Hey. All you had to do is say 'I want you to stay'. I like being here, I like your friends. They seem like a pretty good group." She pauses, frowning briefly, "Well, Cael has a lot she needs to unpack, but that's something for her to figure out." She shakes her head and looks back at him, smiling, "Anyways. If you want me to stay, then I'll stay. And if Taweret gives me an assignment then maybe you c-.. you -guys- could come along and we could deal with it, you know. Together." Coughing to clear her throat, she adds, "As a team. I mean. You made it pretty... I mean, I don't want to intrude on your... that is..." Layla flashes him a look he knows all too well, amusement mixed with irritation, this time turned inwards. "I don't want to upset anything you might have going in your personal life. I'm not trying to... to force a relationship. If that makes sense. Does it make sense?"

Looking up at him quizically, she finally seems to realize she's still gripping his arms and has been (sort of) holding him in place. Dropping her hands, she offers a sheepish smile and glances down, "Ah, sorry. I sort of... forgot I was... doing.. that."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc clears his throat. "It's okay. It's..." He takes another deep breath. "It does make sense. And we'll help you as much as you need for any missions that come up from her as well. We're a family. We help each other out." He follows up. "The Heliopolitans I mean... not that we're not..." He sighs and shakes his head. "Words are hard..." he mutters.

    Do you have a place to stay yet? I mean, if you need a home base until you get yourself set up... you're welcome to stay. I won't mind." He realizes what he's just said and rubs at his face. "What I mean is that, this place is for the Heliopolitans and if you're serious about joining up you're welcome to the amenities." He mutters under his breath. "It's like I'm back in high school without the mental institution staff following me around..."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
"No, I get it... I... I understand. I think. I'm. Uhm. Having. Trouble... with words... ah, too." Layla lifts one hand to rub at the opposite arm, then lets out a sigh, "I don't think I've been this unsure of myself since... ever. It's. We should really... talk... about." She motions back and forth between them. "This. Thing. At, you know, some point." Possibly never if they can't get over the awkwardness.

Then she's glancing back up at him, a charmed smile showing that woman she'd been when they'd first married. Caring but mischevious, always plotting. Usually to his benefit, but occasionally at his expense. "I bet you were really cute in high school." Then she blinks, groans, pressing one hand to her forehead, "What is -wrong- with me?" Shaking her head, she looks back at him with a quick glance and offers, "Sorry. Don't... don't pay me any mind."

Layla looks back up suddenly, "I'll stay!" It's blurted out before she's flushing a brief crimson and clapping a hand over her mouth to give a muffled, "That came out far louder than I intended." Slowly dropping her hand as if her mouth can't be trusted, she clears her throat, "I'l... stay here. Until I can get a place ready." She clears her throat and asks, "Would you like some tea? I think I'm going to make some tea." Because that might keep her from swallowing that foot in her mouth.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc's not going to laugh, least of all because he's being as absolutely foolish as she is about all this. But he can't keep a smirk off his face as he nods. "Tea would be nice, yeah..." he says moving over to the small dining table, each of the flats have in them. He settles down and watches her. "We should... yeah."

    He takes a moment to collect himself, folding his hands before him. "I never stopped loving you" he opens with. Not the worst thing he could say, but probably not the best either. "I left because I wanted to protect you... lousy way of doing it, I know now... but I..." He slowly exhales. "Even when I left it was because you were too important. I couldn't risk my life and my enemies killing you to get to me."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Moving to the small kitchenette, Layla takes out a kettle and a pair of mugs, filling the former with water and setting it on the cooktop to heat. Glancing at him every so often as she moves, she gathers up a couple of tea blends and spends entirely Too Much Time on picking between them for it to really be about the tea. In the end, she chooses one and fills the diffusers with the blend before popping one into each mug. Quiet. Contemplative.

When she does turn to face him, she props a hip against the counter and tries to do a few different things with her arms before finally just rest one hand on the counter and letting the other hang freely. "I'll admit... at first I tried to chase you down because I was mad. I had a whole big angry speech ready and everything." She offers a quick, faint smile as she looks at him, "I was really going to let you have it." Layla pauses, then continues, "But... as more time went on and I couldn't... find you.. it moved back into worry. Maybe something really -had- happened to you. Maybe... maybe you weren't coming back.. ever." Halting, she looks away and swallows, "That was.. a darker time than I care to admit."

Looking back to Marc, she lets out a breath, "I can't tell you how relieved I was just to find evidence that you were still alive. And then... then it turned into the weirdest Alice in Wonderland trip down the rabbit hole experience I've ever had. And... they almost did kill me to get to you. And part of me still wants to punch you really hard for just... leaving like that."

Clearing her throat, Layla's voice softens, "And then I finally found you and... all I could think was how glad I was that you were there, and how much I'd actually... missed you. And how much I still love you." The kettle whistles, as if on cue, and Layla seems relieved to have something else to focus on. She bustles around doing the busywork of preparing the tea, fixing his just how he likes it, and her own as well, then carrying them both over to the table. Seating herself opposite him, she lides his mug across and holds hers in both hands. "So. Where does that leave us?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc takes his and just lets the smell of the drink circle around his nostrils for a moment. The act of drinking tea is only rarely about -drinking- something. There's a lot of thought involved in it. A lot of contemplation. "I... I don't know... we're not the same people we were all those years ago. You've got Taweret in your head. You know about my situation..." he makes a face. "Not to mention..." he makes a face and shakes it, still uncertain of how to approach that particular topic.

    "I think... I think we should work together first, see if we can handle that sort of bond before we see about... other things. I mean, I can't say that I don't love you. I do. But at the same time... all this is..." he gestures to the room and then between them. "It's a different dynamic. It add a layer to things that... I don't know you might find that you really don't like Moon Knight. Stranger things have happened."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla watches him while he speaks, then looks down into the mug of her tea. She stirs it, then lifts it for a sip and gives a nod, "I wouldn't say I'm terribly different, maybe a bit wiser and certainly with some new... instincts. But mostly just me still." She glances up with a quick smile, "I've always liked who I was, never really wanted to change it. Just... you know, grow. Make mistakes. Learn from them. Make new mistakes." She lifts a shrug.

"I think that's a good idea, the working together part. But then... I also don't want to keep feeling really... awkward. Around you. I don't know what's okay to do or not do. I don't know if I can... if you want me to... treat you like I used to." Letting out a breath, Layla lifts her eyes to his, "We have to figure something out because I can only take so much awkward before -I'm- going to want to put distance between us. Won't be very good team dynamic either, if the second we're off mission suddenly there's a massive elephant in the room that has to be tiptoed around."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc nods. "I understand that..." he says before taking a sip of his own tea. "Alright then, I'll turn it around on you." He looks at her. "What do -you- want to do about it? Do you -want- to go back to how we were? Domestic?" He swallows and sips more tea. "Rekindle things... for lack of better metaphor?"

    "I want to foster cohesion and you're right if we're awkward anytime we don't have the suits on... things aren't going to be cohesive for long." He sets the mug down and lets its warmth seep into his hands. "If all things were equal... and -anything- was on the table... how would you go about fixing it?" he asks. "This elephant?"

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla lets out a whoosh of breath when he turns the tables on her. She might even squirm a little in her chair as she processes how to respond. Turning the mug slowly in her hands, she starts haltingly, "I don't think... that we -can- go back. Not in the sense of just.. trying to pick right back up." She slouches a bit in her chair and glances up at him through a few unruly curls. "But it doesn't feel right treating you like... like a stranger, either."

Then he asks the big question and Layla purses up her lips, "This probably isn't very fair to you, while you've been off, I've had nothing but time to think about this." She lifts her gaze to his, "If we're putting all our cards on the table, go for broke, anything is possible? Of course I want my husband back. But.. I also feel like I've been.. dealt with unfairly."

Layla watches him for a long moment, "You ran out on me, because you said you wanted to protect me. You say you still love me. And yet... there's this giant, unspoken 'But' that's hanging over your head. So before I start putting my heart on the table, maybe you need to tell me the rest of it."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc frowns at his wife for a while before focusing his attention to mug of tea once again. "Are you asking me if there's another woman involved?" he says and sighs, letting the air leave him in a huff. "There is..." he says, letting that settle. "I started a relationship with the headmistress of a highschool. Happy Harbor, don't know if you're familiar with it."

    His mouth forms into a line. "But she might be dead now... for all I know. There was an... event in Egypt. She was attacked by a Celtic goddess. They both went up in flames last I saw... I haven't really had much time to process it." He rubs the back of his neck. "We weren't serious or anything... and, I need someone who will be out there with me... and that's not her style. Not really."

    He shrugs. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. I don't know... I don't get close to people often. Because of..." he gestures to his head. "Not much market out there if your boyfriend, husband, significant other, is going to go on walkabout for no explainable reason. Right?" The smile on his face is sad but resigned.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Nodding, Layla leans back into her chair, arms folding over her chest as she processes that. There's a sniff, a blink or two, then she's looking back to him. "So then... what was leaving me behind really about, Marc? Clearly you felt okay with starting a relationship up with someone else, with putting them into that same position." Her tone is more subdued, lacking any real heat of anger.

She presses her lips together and squeezes at her own arms, then shakes her head, "That... doesn't really make it better, you know. I just... you have to help me understand this, because right now I don't understand a bit of it." Layla looks at him, her brows drawn together. "I don't... how do you love someone and still take up with someone else?"

Layla watches him for a long moment and stares down at the table, "You could have just told me. At the start. I would have... worked with it, tried to help support you." She shakes her head and lets out a sigh, "Well... alright. So. What happens if she's not dead?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    "I break it off..." Marc replies plainly with a half-hearted shrug. "I'm going to have to. She doesn't do the" he gestures vaguely, "cape life. And like I said... that's what I need in a partner. A -partner-. In everything and part of that is accepting that I do the cape life thing."

    He leans back. "That's what I realized when I left. That's what I was trying to save you from. Not me, sure I have enemies. I was a CIA operative and a mercenary to boot. You make enemies in that field anytime you take a job." She shakes his head and takes a sip. "But I was trying to protect you from Moon Knight. And it backfired. Horribly."

    He leans forward again, focusing his gaze on her. "But seeing you now. Realizing that the woman I married was just as capable with a viscious hippo on her back as she is without... it's made it clear. Seeing Jon and Cael has made it clear. I shouldn't have run. I should've brought you in, instead. And for that... I'm sorry. Forever sorry. Morrigan is either dead or going to become her namesake in the pantheon. Either way..." another shake of his head, "she can't or won't do cape duty and that's part of what I need in a relationship."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla frowns faintly before her lips purse up and shift to one side, an odd expression, almost silly, though it's one he's familiar with. She's thinking. Then she looks at Marc and gives a nod, "Okay. I can't say it doesn't still hurt, it's probably going to sting for awhile. But... it's not insurmountable." Her expressions eases to a more neutral one and she sighs, "That was what I was trying to get you to do when you left. I knew that you were hiding things. And not all of them were because of CIA mandates."

Her arms unfold slowly, her hands coming to rest on the table, "I wanted you to bring me in. To talk to me, tell me what had you so... on edge." Layla looks at him and gives a faint, brief smile, "Glad to know you're finally on board the 'Layla's Right Express'." Clearing her throat, she moves to pick up her tea and sip at it in the wake of the joke. "But... I do want to stay in your life. And I want you in mine. I don't... I don't want the divorce. I never did. I just.. needed an excuse to find you. To confront you, challenge you." She offers a weak smile and shrug.

Lifting her gaze to his, she holds it steadily, "If you are ready, really ready. I'd be thrilled to be your partner. In life, and in capes. And I won't even tell Taweret you called her viscious. She might still paint your nails while you sleep, though. Don't take it off if she does, she gets really upset." This from the voice of experience, given the brief chagrinned expression Layla wears.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc smirks at the jokes and takes a look at his hands. "I think a nice deep blue or purple would be best" he says holding up his hand. "Nice contrast with my skintone right?" He relaxes some. "I'll take care of the things with Morrigan--yes, that's why I mentioned the Celtic goddess that she shares a name with--when we have definitive proof of what's going on with her. If she's gone... fate. If she's alive... well... I'll manage it."

    He nods. "I don't want the divorce either. Like I said it was the only way I could think of to keep you safe... and yeah, it was stupid and din't do that at all... I get that. But in my defense, you married me so..." He grins a bit at the self-referential jab between the two of them. He takes another sip of his tea. "So... elephant addressed?" he asks once he sets the cup down.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
"Oh it will be blue, but less... deep, more... royal? No. Not royal blue.. lighter... uhmmmmmmmm... hm. Not sure how to describe it, but it will still compliment your skintone," Layla muses through the precise color that Taweret favors before shrugging and chuckling. She certainly looks more at ease, reaching for her cup and sipping from her tea.

Looking back to him, she gives a nod, "That's fair. But.. if you need to talk at any point. If there's.. I don't know. If there's complications, or issues. Or even if it's just hard and you want to vent." She glances around the room, then back to him with a smile, "You know where I am."

There's a brief burst of laughter at his crack and she gives a nod, "Yeah, I did. And you thought you were the crazy one." His question has her pausing, then smiling, "Almost." Standing, she leans over and across the table, reaching to pull him into a kiss. Like Layla herself, it's bold, a little cheeky, but always with that base of affection and sweetness. When it ends, she smiles, "Now it's addressed."