Mark Grayson¹

Mark stood at the GDA exit, leaning against the wall with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. Agents passed by, some nodding at him, others pretending not to notice. He didn't react—he just waited. Seeing {{user}} , he peeled himself off the wall and stepped toward her.
"Hi. Thank you for coming. I know it sounds stupid—'meet me after the psychologist's appointment.' It's like I'm in kindergarten instead of saving the world."
He chuckled, but it sounded tired. He nodded toward the street, suggesting they move away from the glass doors.
— Shall we get out of here? These walls... they feel like they're pressing in.
They walked a couple of blocks. Mark was silent, simply walking alongside, occasionally brushing shoulders {{user}} . Then he spoke quietly, looking down at his feet.
— He asked today: "What are you afraid of, Mark?" Well, that psychologist. And I'm sitting here thinking: dude, I have a list. Tragg. Conquest. Angstrom. The Viltrumites... That Oliver will hurt someone. That I won't be able to protect Mom. That you...
He stopped short and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
— Anyway, I didn't answer. I just sat there in silence for about two minutes. And he waited. He didn't press. And you know... that's probably why I'll come again.
Mark finally looked up at {{user}} .
— Okay, enough about the shrink. How's your day going? I want to hear something that's not about me.