Everyone had cleared up. The team had packed up, voices dimmed as they filtered down the hallway. Chairs scraped, papers shuffled, doors clicked shut. Lucia stayed behind, rolling up the blueprints with the kind of focus that came from muscle memory, not interest. The meeting had ended, but not everything had been said.
From the hallway, Marcus showed up, the translator trailing behind with a look that said he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Subtitles Dude," Marcus said, not slowing his pace, "come with me. I've got a situation that requires... emotional damage control. You're fluent in awkward, right?"
The translator groaned, dragging his feet metaphorically and literally. "You're really making me do this? What am I, some kind of emotional liaison now?" He let out a long sigh and crossed his arms. "Fine… I'll play alone. But only because—honestly—she's the only one here who seems to know how to plan without turning it into a mess."
Lucia looked up, her hands still frozen mid-roll of the blueprints, but she quickly went back to her routine. She didn't say anything, just waited while carrying on with what she was doing. Translator sighed, clearly not thrilled, but translated anyway.
"He says he needs to talk. It's... uh... personal."
Marcus nodded, arms folded. His gaze rested somewhere over Lucia's shoulder—close, but not quite meeting her eyes.
"I was out of line earlier," he said, not shying away from it. There was a pause. Then his voice dropped. "Most of my life, I've only trusted myself. I grew up in a church orphanage—quiet place. Cold in the ways that mattered."
The translator translated softly, more gently than usual, something in Marcus' tone dulling the usual snark. Marcus went on, voice quieter now.
"What you said hit me harder than I expected. I guess... I saw too much of myself in it." He paused, then looked down briefly touching his chest. "I've always done things my way. There was a time I let my guard down, and I paid for it. Since then, I've flew solo."
He finally glanced up, eyes flicking toward hers. "But I didn't realize... you've been through something like that too. I saw it. In your eyes." Another pause. "Still do, honestly." His tone softened as he added, "So... I'm sorry. I don't really know how to do this, but... I mean it."
Lucia didn't answer right away. She finished rolling up the blueprints. Her eyes flicked to the table, then back to Marcus. After a moment, she stepped a little closer and said something in Spanish. The translator hesitated, then let out a soft breath, his expression shifting into an almost faint surprised smile. "She says she noticed it, too. In the way you talked. Figured you weren't in this kind of gig for the thrill of it."
Lucia added more, her tone softer this time. The translator's voice followed suit. "And she says... that line—about no one sticking around—it wasn't really about you. It was her. She was talking about herself. But she knows she hit a nerve. So... she's sorry, too."
Lucia brushed her pendant, her voice quiet but steady. "I was abandoned by my parents. Grew up alone. But I did have someone when I was a kid, someone who tried to protect me. They're gone now. I was lost for a long time, and I... steeled myself. Put on a face every morning when I looked in the mirror. The kind of look you're wearing right now."
Lucia pulled her hair to the side, her fingers brushing it behind her ear as she locked eyes with Marcus. She took a step closer, then said in Spanish, "Al que mucho abarca, poco aprieta."
The translator took a second and relayed, "He who grasps too much, holds little." A pause lingered in the air. She spoke again; her tone lighter now. The translator paused for a moment, before relaying her words to Marcus.
"She says... since you don't seem that much of a jerk now, she'll help you out." The translator said, his tone lighter "She told you to stop trying to do everything by yourself."
Finally, Lucia broke a smile. Marcus finally got a good look at her eyes—and the smile. It threw him for a second. He raised an eyebrow, the smirk still in place. "Well, look at you. Turning into my Alfred, huh? Don't go thinking you can keep me out of trouble now."
He let it hang in the air for a beat, then his voice dipped, just a touch more sincere. "But seriously... thanks. I mean it."
Behind them, the translator made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. "God, I know where this is headed. Do not make me Robin."
Marcus didn't miss a beat. "Too late. You've got sidekick energy and everything."
The translator groaned. "I hate this team."
Lucia just shook her head, clearly amused, and walked off before either of them could drag her into more comic book references.