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[ Marcus, as always, tries to keep impassive - but it's hard, hearing this. Harder, more than anything, to face the realization that Tate must have been going through a fucking lot to make that his way out. He can piece together a few assumptions in his head - robbery gone wrong, hostage situation, getting roped up into something awful beyond his will, that kind of thing - but Marcus can't really see Tate doing anything dangerous without real cause. If he hadn't been in King's, maybe Marcus would have been a little afraid of Tate, but... ]

Sounds like you wanted to go out with a bang.

[ He's been around death enough at this point to have something of a tolerance to it. He's been around killers enough to know, at this point, that they're not all cartoonish bad guys you're scared of when you're a little kid. Logic dictates that Tate was in over his head, or... wanted to hurt someone who deserved it, or... some kind of tragic, fucked up thing like that. I turned a gun on a cop so they'd shoot me implies Tate had power over his decision, so...

Marcus chews the inside of his cheek, hoping he's not stepping out of line here when he carefully, slowly says what he wants to say. ]

I guess I... hope you got what you wanted. Genuinely. Whatever it was.

[There's a flash of something on Tate's face - amusement, in part, maybe a feeling of victory as he thinks back to that night so far back in the past that he's started to really doubt his own recollection of it. Started to tell himself he could blot out the truth with a few lies, ignoring the real reasons to better suit his own narrative when he told it to other people. But he knows, deep down, every gory little detail. In his dreams he can still taste the metallic sting in his throat.

'I hope you got what you wanted' is an odd thing to say - but Tate kind of appreciates it. He cants his head to the side and looks at Marcus for a long beat. He's not sure if he did or didn't. He got the victory he wanted but he's always been shortsighted. And after everything he did and the mess he made? He's still conflicted over what was worth what.]

I definitely ruined Christmas that year.

[He smiles, a little humorless.]

I also haven't told anyone that so - keep a secret for me.

[ A family thing, then. Coming here so soon after killing Gene makes that resonate with Marcus in a way that it might not have, otherwise. After losing his parents, Marcus was pretty fucking bitter and resentful towards anyone who took theirs for granted - but he's seen how bad they can get, now. Maybe Tate was in a similar situation. ]

Okay.

[ A pause. Marcus isn't sure what to say next. He kind of wants to apologize, offer hollow, empty sympathy that would just make Tate feel uncomfortable. There's more thinking than there needs to be before he finally settles on something that he hopes sounds both simple and sincere. ]

Thanks for telling me.

[Tate lays still for a beat, watching Marcus passively; there's something about this moment that he likes. It's the trust, maybe. The fact that he doesn't feel like Marcus will break said trust - it'd probably go against what he believes in and if there's one thing Tate believes, it's that Marcus is pretty good about keeping his morals in check. At least when it isn't about killing other friends due to blackmail and paranoia.

Tate slips both hands behind his head and stares up at the ceiling.]

I'm wanna hang here tonight. You cool with that?

Yeah, okay. Just...

[ There's a beat, here, with Marcus looking at Tate for a long few seconds like he's about to say something different to what he ends up going with. He shakes his head, dismisses whatever was in his head, then stands, heading to grab some water. Kind of needs it, after that. ]

Don't possess me or whatever.

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