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“No.”
The Outsider doesn’t reel back in shock, but he does cock his head in that unbelievably annoying way that Corvo absolutely hates. He raises an eyebrow, leaning a little closer.
“No?” The Outsider’s voice is bemused and even, as if the fact that Corvo’s carried his mark for fifteen years (fifteen damn years. Do you have any idea how hot gloves can be in summer weather?) doesn’t count for anything. “No enhancements or upgrades?”
His laugh resonates in the Void. Corvo’s frown only deepens.
“And I don’t suppose you’d like my mark removed, would you?”
At this, Corvo looks up, clearly shocked. His gaze meets the Outsider’s, who still can’t keep the amusement from his face. Corvo’s voice is hoarse as he croaks out: “you can remove it?”
He’s not joking. Corvo can see it. And he’s spent most of his life reading the body language of most of Dunwall’s finest aristocracy at the sides of two empresses.
“Of course. I can give my mark as easily as I can take it away.” The Outsider smiles,and his teeth are too sharp and too numerous for a normal human.
Yes. Yes, Corvo’s mind screams. Fifteen years of hiding your mark from the Abbey of the Everyman. Fifteen years of lying to Emily about its origins. Fifteen years of waking up every morning and being reminded of Jessamine’s death, over and over again.
And now, the Outsider is offering to remove it.
Corvo doesn’t hesitate and doesn’t pause think about the consequences of his actions—which is a first, considering that the job of Lord Protector comes with its own fair share of risks. He’s tired of running and hiding and lying. Tired of...everything.
“Yes.”