[Show-off, he thinks, entirely fondly, when he notices the little modifications for his benefit. He gets it from Iris, and, Marsh likes to think, at least a bit from Kelsier, who occupied an odd intergenerational - interstitial - place in their family, whom Zane adored and admired as a blend of cool uncle and older brother, in that Marsh raised them both. Thinking of Kelsier (still) hurts like pressing on an old blue bruise, or - on a broken bone healed slightly crooked, low permanent ache, familiar almost to the point of comforting. And being reminded by Zane - pressure and warmth on the break, a little balm for things that won't heal, because he is the best of all of them, contradictory pieces slipped together and melded smooth.
Marsh has his worn little smile on when Zane comes over, clearer in the corners of his eyes than the very faint curl of his mouth, in the way he abjures his usual solemn briskness to just keep looking at Zane for another moment, and another, before he nods in agreement and starts the process of levering himself gingerly up.]
Yes, alright.
[He used to carry a cane, but it took such a toll on the shins of everyone around him that several of the techs embarked on a full-out psychological campaign to chivy him into being proud to keep it, which was, to wide relief, largely successful.]
no subject
Marsh has his worn little smile on when Zane comes over, clearer in the corners of his eyes than the very faint curl of his mouth, in the way he abjures his usual solemn briskness to just keep looking at Zane for another moment, and another, before he nods in agreement and starts the process of levering himself gingerly up.]
Yes, alright.
[He used to carry a cane, but it took such a toll on the shins of everyone around him that several of the techs embarked on a full-out psychological campaign to chivy him into being proud to keep it, which was, to wide relief, largely successful.]