( she's more gentle than he is, and he's grateful for it β it saves him the effort of needing to soften himself. what he does instead, is take a step back, allowing the man β young, barely out of his teens β space, his attention sliding towards the unconscious body lucina had dragged into the room.
a beat of consideration, barely a glance over his shoulder and, ) The room next door. ( a statement, not a suggestion, though it is intended as one. ) There's company.
( βah. )
Friendlier than these two. ( not fighters, based on the way they've stayed put, which could be considered both a blessing and a curse given the night so far. it's a thought that occurs quickly to marc, just as the youth starts to make his way out of the bathroom. ) βNo-one's going to bother you more tonight.
( he doesn't look to lucina as the boy makes his way out of the room, his attention on the two bodies on the floor. he squats by the first, his gaze settling intently for a breath, expression β impassive β likely not visible in the dark but for the shadows.
then, with neither care nor shame, marc searches through the man's pockets. there's a wallet, one he flops open, looking between the ID and the body, huffing a derisive laugh as he reaches the conclusion he'd expected β stolen. with a glance up to lucina, he pauses, and then throws it towards her. there's cash inside if she wants it β he's not so inclined, not for the moment.
a few more moments, and marc seems not to find what he'd been looking for (weapons), and he stands. he brushes his hands down his pants, then straightens his tie, and thenβ
mm. )
Just a second.
( and then he's at the door, a β white paint marker pulled out of a pocket? yes. apparently.
he holds the door in place with a boot β white, too, more of a chelsea boot than a work boot β and draws a quick, large, crescent moon. he fills it in roughly β he'd prefer spray paint, but beggars can't be choosers.
without looking away, he answers a question lucina hasn't asked and perhaps wasn't interested in askingβ ) βA warning.
( he did say no-one else would cause the boy trouble. )
no subject
a beat of consideration, barely a glance over his shoulder and, ) The room next door. ( a statement, not a suggestion, though it is intended as one. ) There's company.
( βah. )
Friendlier than these two. ( not fighters, based on the way they've stayed put, which could be considered both a blessing and a curse given the night so far. it's a thought that occurs quickly to marc, just as the youth starts to make his way out of the bathroom. ) βNo-one's going to bother you more tonight.
( he doesn't look to lucina as the boy makes his way out of the room, his attention on the two bodies on the floor. he squats by the first, his gaze settling intently for a breath, expression β impassive β likely not visible in the dark but for the shadows.
then, with neither care nor shame, marc searches through the man's pockets. there's a wallet, one he flops open, looking between the ID and the body, huffing a derisive laugh as he reaches the conclusion he'd expected β stolen. with a glance up to lucina, he pauses, and then throws it towards her. there's cash inside if she wants it β he's not so inclined, not for the moment.
a few more moments, and marc seems not to find what he'd been looking for (weapons), and he stands. he brushes his hands down his pants, then straightens his tie, and thenβ
mm. )
Just a second.
( and then he's at the door, a β white paint marker pulled out of a pocket? yes. apparently.
he holds the door in place with a boot β white, too, more of a chelsea boot than a work boot β and draws a quick, large, crescent moon. he fills it in roughly β he'd prefer spray paint, but beggars can't be choosers.
without looking away, he answers a question lucina hasn't asked and perhaps wasn't interested in askingβ ) βA warning.
( he did say no-one else would cause the boy trouble. )