marcus (_drac) wrote in cirque_rp, |
Dower. That's what Marcus was. Fluffy morning rituals be damned, he was in a piss poor mood and was flirting with the notion of leaving seeing as he couldn't track Elia down to... Marcus looked down at his large rocked tumbler of bourbon rather stonely. He hated leaving things left undone or said. He liked to address problems head-on if only so he wouldn't be left in any sort of state. Elia was making such a desire a bit difficult, as was par to her course. He arched a brow rather thoughtfully to himself. Marcus couldn't right blame her if she wanted to avoid him for at least a day after...
Marcus pushed at his ice and watched it melt in a radius rather quickly. There was no point dwelling. It was done and he didn't least bit blame her bashing him up or dislocating his bum shoulder. He would have done the same in her place... If not worst...
Sprawling within his seat, leg right over left, the witch ate up more space at his little table than invited. He dressed fitting for the majority of restless spirits of the Tower. Clean shaven, Marcus looked younger and striking. More alluring than rugged as common with either his five-o'clock shadow or trimmed beard. When Ilinca moved closer to the freer portion to the bar to people watch, Marcus felt it. He hummed with an awareness and looked up with a soft pulse of heat her way. Marcus didn't move, he just watched her scan the crowd.