Marc has a complex relationships with masks — Sterman, his doctor, had asked him why and his first response, the one that he gave hoping she'd ask nothing further, was that given she worked with superhero menticide, masks were surely a given. The rebuttal had been yes, but that doesn't explain why.
For Marc, they're less about hiding his face, his feelings, his thoughts. They're about hiding him — with one, he's Mr. Knight, pillar(ish) of his community, the man that helps out and looks after his people. With the other, he's Moon Knight, Khonshu's Fist of Vengeance, still not Marc Spector.
They're an escape, a means of avoiding himself, of not having to look at himself and see his past, his actions, his everything reflected in his eyes, the set of his jaw. The features that, if they were more gentle, were kinder, softer, would be the spitting image of his father. Instead, they're a reminder of everything he's not.
Which is to say, there's nothing when Joker says his name — no familiarity, no recognition. Blankness, the only twinge of recognition being to the tone, to the way that it's said as if Marc should know who he is. It wouldn't be the first time, Marc's exceptionally good at staying in his lane, at only paying attention to matters that are important to him. For someone so caught up in guilt, in trying to right wrongs, he errs — incredibly — to self-involvement.
(It does occur to him, though, that unless it's coincidental, it's likely they work in the same sort of business. (The) Joker isn't a name, not really. It's a not-name in the same way that Moon Knight is. An identity, certainly, but that's not quite the same thing.)
He extends his own gloved hand even as he acknowledges — internally, a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach — that this is likely a bad idea. A shit idea, in the same way that playing along with Clarke had been — the kind of idea that empties all his accounts, that gets his friends (!) kidnapped, and yet.
(It'd allowed him to have some fun.)
—And it's lucky, then, that none of them are here.
"Joker," he repeats, as if trying the word out. Testing. Considering. A handshake without ego, short-lived, strong enough and that's it. "—Just know that I can make myself very interesting if it comes to it."
no subject
For Marc, they're less about hiding his face, his feelings, his thoughts. They're about hiding him — with one, he's Mr. Knight, pillar(ish) of his community, the man that helps out and looks after his people. With the other, he's Moon Knight, Khonshu's Fist of Vengeance, still not Marc Spector.
They're an escape, a means of avoiding himself, of not having to look at himself and see his past, his actions, his everything reflected in his eyes, the set of his jaw. The features that, if they were more gentle, were kinder, softer, would be the spitting image of his father. Instead, they're a reminder of everything he's not.
Which is to say, there's nothing when Joker says his name — no familiarity, no recognition. Blankness, the only twinge of recognition being to the tone, to the way that it's said as if Marc should know who he is. It wouldn't be the first time, Marc's exceptionally good at staying in his lane, at only paying attention to matters that are important to him. For someone so caught up in guilt, in trying to right wrongs, he errs — incredibly — to self-involvement.
(It does occur to him, though, that unless it's coincidental, it's likely they work in the same sort of business. (The) Joker isn't a name, not really. It's a not-name in the same way that Moon Knight is. An identity, certainly, but that's not quite the same thing.)
He extends his own gloved hand even as he acknowledges — internally, a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach — that this is likely a bad idea. A shit idea, in the same way that playing along with Clarke had been — the kind of idea that empties all his accounts, that gets his friends (!) kidnapped, and yet.
(It'd allowed him to have some fun.)
—And it's lucky, then, that none of them are here.
"Joker," he repeats, as if trying the word out. Testing. Considering. A handshake without ego, short-lived, strong enough and that's it. "—Just know that I can make myself very interesting if it comes to it."