[ The man in the glass. The image had come to him when he'd walked through the Brood, an exhibit at the Expo. Not a working copy, but an idea of what could be - synthetic life. For him, at the time, it was all still far in the realm of science fiction: primary colors on newsprint, the bright black and white of a screen, the voice of a narrator.
The world he comes from can't yet fathom something so indistinguishable, only monsters and cautionary tales. Even Stark's man in the glass had looked like a mannequin out of a Macy's display.
His eyebrows raise, mouth forming a silent oh for a second. ] You're... both?
[ No, he hadn't guessed before. His eyebrows are quick to knit together, piecing back their time on the Station for physical proof he'd missed that Sam was something other than human - coming up blank. ]
no subject
The world he comes from can't yet fathom something so indistinguishable, only monsters and cautionary tales. Even Stark's man in the glass had looked like a mannequin out of a Macy's display.
His eyebrows raise, mouth forming a silent oh for a second. ] You're... both?
[ No, he hadn't guessed before. His eyebrows are quick to knit together, piecing back their time on the Station for physical proof he'd missed that Sam was something other than human - coming up blank. ]