Marcus snorted at the question. From him, it had an animalistic character to it. The huff of a large bull, but his expression wasn't impatient or unfriendly. The accent had been a surprise to him. He didn't often run into Russians, either. His eyes shifted over to the blond, the smirk still on his face. He did briefly look the blond over before speaking, the way he had the server girl, the DA, and the fucking coroner. Then he took a sip of his beer and chuckled before flicking his gaze back to the Russian. "Yeah, fuck if I know, cabrĂ³n." He gestured at the empty shot glasses at his table. "Been sticking to tequila and stout."
He looked away from the two momentarily, just to see if anyone else had walked in worth speaking to, but they were essentially winning the fish-out-of-water contest, snatching it even from Sue with their incessant hand-holding. His attention fell back on the lovers' table.
"So. Were you two on a plane to fucking Chicago or California?" So far, those had been the most common. A couple he'd spoken to had been on their way to Colorado, but these two didn't look like they were natives of Boulder. Marcus was going to go ahead and be prejudiced, and assume California had been their destination before the storm. He even went so far as to make a mental bet with himself on the matter.