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Marcus Flint (marcedflint) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

As ever, losing a match had a tendency to put Marcus in a bit of a mood. He'd been grumpy since leaving the stadium, though admittedly he'd probably concentrated more on that than his dinner plans, if only to try and stop the fluttering feeling in his stomach every few minutes. After showing and changing - a process that had taken twice as long as it should have, considering he'd been doing those tasks for as long as he could remember, except normally he didn't have a reason to care overly much about how he presented himself. Four sets of clothes later, he was satisfied with his appearance and a little terrified he'd taken too much time and was going to be late.

The walk to Roger's flat was more than enough time for all the butterflies he'd been ignoring all day to return in full force. By the time Marcus knocked, he was more nervous than he could ever remember being, including the night he'd gotten the Mark. Thankfully, Roger didn't leave him waiting too long, returning the smile with a small one of his own, even slightly taken aback at the other man's lack of a shirt. After a moment to find his voice, he said teasingly, "I would certainly hope I'm not a stranger."