[ the way he's been worried these past several days (maybe even weeks, really, since he started noticing the different behavioral patterns) surprises even him. kovacs makes it a point to try to avoid all of these close connections, an attempt that's failed more times than he can count with plenty of people on this station, but if he had to make a guess all those months ago when he first showed up, he wouldn't have guessed he'd be standing here now, plenty exhausted himself for how much he's stayed up these past few nights to make sure this body stayed in one piece.
the honesty of it all is probably one of those things someone like kovacs would have a harder time admitting to, focusing the topic on cigarettes until it's newt that shifts into the next question, prompting out a quiet sigh. ]
You know, with a world like mine, a face is just a face. Anyone can wear it. Even this one — [ he gives a vague gesture of his hand to himself. ] Belongs to someone else. And, a lot of the time, people can study someone up and down — mannerisms, ticks, wants, dislikes, anything to the tiniest detail — to practically nail an exact impersonation. But ... how do I know you are who you say you are?
[ he moves his feet slowly, stepping closer along the side of the bed. ]
It doesn't matter that they were in your head. Whatever image of you they tried to make up, whatever memories they could see, whatever voice they could mimic — it was never you. The way you care, the passion you put into everything you do, the way the world brightens up your face no matter how weird and fucked up it is, like you're just excited that the universe even exists, that you're a part of it, how you root for every person that crosses your path before they even get a single word out — that's all you. No one could embrace those parts of yourself like you can. Not even something that shared your head for a while.
no subject
the honesty of it all is probably one of those things someone like kovacs would have a harder time admitting to, focusing the topic on cigarettes until it's newt that shifts into the next question, prompting out a quiet sigh. ]
You know, with a world like mine, a face is just a face. Anyone can wear it. Even this one — [ he gives a vague gesture of his hand to himself. ] Belongs to someone else. And, a lot of the time, people can study someone up and down — mannerisms, ticks, wants, dislikes, anything to the tiniest detail — to practically nail an exact impersonation. But ... how do I know you are who you say you are?
[ he moves his feet slowly, stepping closer along the side of the bed. ]
It doesn't matter that they were in your head. Whatever image of you they tried to make up, whatever memories they could see, whatever voice they could mimic — it was never you. The way you care, the passion you put into everything you do, the way the world brightens up your face no matter how weird and fucked up it is, like you're just excited that the universe even exists, that you're a part of it, how you root for every person that crosses your path before they even get a single word out — that's all you. No one could embrace those parts of yourself like you can. Not even something that shared your head for a while.
[ a beat before he adds, ]
And anyone that loves you will know that.