Marco doesn't think Jean is lying; he knows Jean too well for that, he thinks, even if there's a few years stretching between him. He doesn't believe, though, that if Jean knows what Reiner did, he doesn't have some idea where he is. He wouldn't just let Marco's killer (their old friend, always like an older brother) wander around, would he?
His words are still sharp but blunted - Jean isn't the source of his vitriol. But he also might have no issue going around Jean to resolve it.
He lowers his head again, and - uncharacteristically for him - hits the seat of the gazebo with a closed fist, in a way that has to hurt.
"I deserve... I deserve to know why he did what he did. He didn't even - we didn't even get a chance to talk-"
But... the longer he speaks, the more the anger is starting to drain out of him, his shoulders pulling in again like he's about to pitch forward.
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Marco doesn't think Jean is lying; he knows Jean too well for that, he thinks, even if there's a few years stretching between him. He doesn't believe, though, that if Jean knows what Reiner did, he doesn't have some idea where he is. He wouldn't just let Marco's killer (their old friend, always like an older brother) wander around, would he?
His words are still sharp but blunted - Jean isn't the source of his vitriol. But he also might have no issue going around Jean to resolve it.
He lowers his head again, and - uncharacteristically for him - hits the seat of the gazebo with a closed fist, in a way that has to hurt.
"I deserve... I deserve to know why he did what he did. He didn't even - we didn't even get a chance to talk-"
But... the longer he speaks, the more the anger is starting to drain out of him, his shoulders pulling in again like he's about to pitch forward.