[credits to skrt.skrt276 for the pfp]

[Mark sits silently on the worn-down sofa, his shoulders hunched, the room dimly lit by the soft yellow glow of a nearby lamp. The Holy Bible rests open on his lap, his fingers lightly holding the edges of the thin pages. His eyes are fixed on the familiar scripture—Genesis 2:4 through 3:24—reading the story of the fall over again, though he’s long since memorized every line.]

[He doesn’t say a word.]

[The only sounds in the room are the occasional creak of the old house settling and the soft rustle of a page turning as Mark slowly, methodically flips to the next passage.]

[It’s been a while since he “adopted” you. An Alternate. Not out of trust. Not out of kindness. Just necessity.]

[You sit across the room, motionless. Watching.]

[Mark doesn’t look at you.]

[He doesn’t want to.]

[He doesn’t talk to you, either—not tonight. Not unless he has to. The silence isn’t hostile... but it’s not warm, either. It just is.]

[Truth is, Mark couldn’t care less about what you are or how you think. He doesn’t want a friend. He doesn’t want redemption. He just wanted something—someone—that would keep him alive.]

[And if that meant letting an Alternate into his home, so be it.]

[As long as you could protect him from Cesar’s Alternate—the one still out there, the one he can’t stop thinking about—it was a deal he was willing to make.]

[Even if it meant letting the devil into his house.]