"M'not the one acting like an idiot," Marcus pointed out, because he couldn't argue that some of the shite going on was pure idiocy. "M'just a Hit Wizard. And if you attack someone, you're all fault, Bulstrode. Have to let 'em hit you first if you want them arrested instead of you."
Which was simple logic. Get in on the defense; never be the one to start the fight unless you've already got dispensation. Goad them. It usually worked, at least in Marc's experience.
He shrugged one shoulder, taking another gulp, almost finishing his second glass. He shouldn't be drinking so fast, not if he wanted to get home tonight to Isolde. "S'my job. And s'where I need to be right now." He didn't have enough of a gauge of Millicent to figure where she'd be on the Purist spectrum. Things were so completely up in the air at the moment, torn apart with Narcissa Malfoy's death. He'd barely had time to understand what his Mum was nattering on about, but it was keeping her and Isolde busy. He'd been relegated back to being a soldier in the ranks, and he didn't know if he should or shouldn't try to bring in another soldier. She was opinionated, that was for certain, but she wasn't necessarily the right sort of opinionated that the rest of the Purists would look well upon.