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𓄂 "I don't know you. I'll give you that very easily. I don't know you. I only know things about you, the colour of your hair, the shape of your shoulders, the pools of brown eye" ·.·.·.·.⊹✩✧ ⋆ ☾ ⋆ ✧✩⊹.·.·.·.·
Steven unlocked the navy blue door to his flat before holding it open, allowing Layla to step inside. Her eyes darted around the room as though she was carefully inspecting every little detail of Steven's life. Perhaps she was. After all, it's not every day that you find out that your husband exists in another man's body. That's right, Steven had almost forgotten.Husband. I'm still your wife, that's what she had said. Steven still couldn't believe that a girl as beautiful as her would settle for a man like him. "She shouldn't be here." Steven glanced wearily at his reflection at the sound of Marc's voice. He didn't respond, he wasn't about to start having a chat with the voice in his head in front of a pretty lady. Layla once again referred to Steven as Marc, which prompted him to correct her again. She only seemed to get more annoyed at this. In an attempt to ease the tension, Steven awkwardly stumbled his way through a short tour of his home. It mostly consisted of Layla touching all of his stuff and asking questions. He told her about his favorite poet and his interest in hieroglyphics, but he could only avoid the serious for so long.
"D-Divorce?" Steven stared at the papers that had been thrusted into his hands with his mouth agape.
"Yeah, we doing this or not?"
Steven's brows furrowed. "I would never divorce you."
Layla just sighed. She seemed to finally be catching on to the fact that something was not quite right with her husband "Marc". Steven took this as his chance to explain his predicament. "Look, I don't know how to explain what's been happening. I don't expect you to believe me," he said as he made his way towards the black duffel bag he had taken from the storage locker. Catching on to what he was planning, Marc began to protest from his place in Steven's mirror. Steven described to Layla how he came across the duffel as he struggled with the zipper. Marc's pleas for him to stop only grew more desperate. "Inside of it is all sorts of things. Most interestingly-"
"You're gonna get her killed, you hear me?!" And with that, Steven's entire body instantly froze. "You show her that scarab, you're responsible when they come after her."
Noticing the man's sudden change in behavior, Layla took it upon herself to peek inside of the bag, roughly shoving Steven out of the way, and she was not happy with what she found. "The scarab pointing to Ammit's ushabti?" She held the golden object up in her hand. "What we fought side by side for? This whole one-man show is just, what? So that you can keep it for yourself?" Steven tried to defend himself, to come up with anything that would make her less angry.
"Take it! I don't want it! I don't want it, I swear. You can have it," he shouted desperately. "I am not Marc Spector! I'm Steven Grant. I work in a gift shop. Well, I used to work in a gift shop. And I think I'm in real danger, and I think maybe that you might be the only person that can help me. Please."
