𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒 {𝕞•𝕜﹠ 𝕝•𝕗} ➣ ❘ [𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓𝕶𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗]

·˚𝙞𝙭. ༘༄ ꒰𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥꒱ؘ*ੈ✩

•°.✩.°• 

"You better hope we don't miss that guy, Bishop," Marc commented as he walked past the table you were working, trying to track down the man who had had intel about Ammit's tomb.

"Wha Why me? How's all this on me?"

"You wanted to stop for a snack instead of going after our guy,"

"You wanted to go on a wild goose chase!" you defended incredulously, "That's just stupid! I'd rather sit back, and calculate our steps to get to the man whilst I enjoy my snack" you gestured to the half-eaten sandwich on the table.

"At least I'm doing something useful," he retorted angrily.

"Okay, just shut up," you raised a finger at him, turning back to the laptop in front of you, "I don't wanna waste my breath talking to you,"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"This is our guy," you slammed a paper down on the bed, Marc was seated on, leaning against the wall behind him.

Marc picked up the paper and looked through it, loosely holding a bottle of alcohol in his other hand.

"Now try to not be a jerk and give me a few moments of peace," you walked towards the bench on the other end of the room, rubbing your temples harshly.

Heka's words about choosing Kate to be his next Avatar echoed through your mind; almost haunting you. While Heka wasn't as bad as Khonshu, he wasn't the best either. You had wanted your freedom and asked Heka to relieve you from the position of being his Avatar. The god refused and made you meet up with Marc Spector— the last person you wanted to see, who also happened to be your ex-childhood best friend.

Marc brought the bottle to his lips, taking a swing while his eyes were locked on your form as he watched you sit on the bench and rest your head against the wall behind you with closed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. You began to bounce your knee— something that Marc knew you would do when you were worried or stressed.

"You alright, Bishop?" Marc questioned sharply.

But you didn't answer and ignored him, exhaling deeply.

"You know, you were much better when we were kids," he remarked.

"That's ironic coming from you," you retorted, glancing at him before closing your eyes again.

Truth was that Marc and you had both known each other when you were kids. You helped him through his brother's death and he often spent time with you, since his mother gave him the cold shoulder and threw snarky remarks at him every chance she got. But then you had moved out of the place with your family, leaving Marc sad about your departure and fending for himself.