( marc doesn't dignify the question with an answer which, frankly, should be all the answer adrian needs. instead, his attention shifts to the dashboard, a quick once-over of the vehicle as he pushes the keys into the ignition. manual or atomatic, it's all the same to him, although he'd prefer manual — almost all the cars he'd owned, particularly in his wealthier days, had been european. it'd been one of the few things he and steven had been in agreement on, while jake — the professional driver — didn't much care where a car was made, just as long as it was fit for whatever purpose he needed it for.
(understatement, mostly.)
an automatic glance up at the rear-view mirror before adjusting it on autopilot (he's taller than adrian), before a sidelong glance at his wing mirror. fuck it, close enough—.
he reverses at pace, before swinging the van back round to face the exit-come-entrance-come-return to the main road, precisely zero consideration given to adrian's comfort. the headlamps do little to battle the almost all-encompassing dark of the shadows, the near-void of it all, and marc hmphs, the noise escaping him without intention or thought. he wonders what his bike will look like in the morning, after the sun's struggled through the whatever this is.
—which, mm, the retrieval will be a problem. he'll need to ask for a ride back out here tomorrow. he glances sideways at adrian, just for a second, like he's thinking of asking (telling?), before deciding against it. it'll probably be better to ask someone who hasn't just almost died.
another, quick glance at his mirror. the shadows behind them seem as thick as ever, but they don't seem to be following now they've left the immediate vicinity of the office, and while marc doesn't relax, he does sigh, quiet, short, but audible. )
no subject
(understatement, mostly.)
an automatic glance up at the rear-view mirror before adjusting it on autopilot (he's taller than adrian), before a sidelong glance at his wing mirror. fuck it, close enough—.
he reverses at pace, before swinging the van back round to face the exit-come-entrance-come-return to the main road, precisely zero consideration given to adrian's comfort. the headlamps do little to battle the almost all-encompassing dark of the shadows, the near-void of it all, and marc hmphs, the noise escaping him without intention or thought. he wonders what his bike will look like in the morning, after the sun's struggled through the whatever this is.
—which, mm, the retrieval will be a problem. he'll need to ask for a ride back out here tomorrow. he glances sideways at adrian, just for a second, like he's thinking of asking (telling?), before deciding against it. it'll probably be better to ask someone who hasn't just almost died.
another, quick glance at his mirror. the shadows behind them seem as thick as ever, but they don't seem to be following now they've left the immediate vicinity of the office, and while marc doesn't relax, he does sigh, quiet, short, but audible. )