Had the Russian expressed his feelings about tequila out loud, Marcus would have laughed. They mirrored his own feelings about vodka exactly, though he likened it to rubbing alcohol, rather than cleaning supply. Not knowing that opinion, however, Marcus couldn't get into the debate. Instead, he learned something that was actually - legitimately - surprising. That the two men had intended to come here. Well, shit, that hadn't even been a considered option. Thus far, Marcus had struck up a conversation with several other guests and two staff members at the hotel, and had to find anyone who seemed to want to be here. Yet, here were two.
They couldn't be locals. There was no fucking way. Marcus shook his head, feeling a little incredulous at that. "No shit? Huh. Strange place for a vacation, hombre. Everyfuckingbody else is here because of shit weather and shittier luck."
He was still trying to process the concept of Shitsville, Indiana as a vacation spot when the blond offered a name. Tanner did very much sound like 90's name to Marcus, and the blond did look to be in his early twenties, so that fit. It wasn't a pretentious name, exactly, but there was something about it that made Marcus think that the guy either had rich parents or a young mother. The kind of people who'd pick Tanner as a name for their kid probably also paid for tennis or piano lessons and shit like that.
He chuckled, low and deep, and rolled his shoulders back, straightening up a bit in his chair to lift his glass and his eyebrow's in the kid's direction. "Marcus Caravahlo. It's a fucking pleasure."
Marcus didn't ask after the mail-order-boyfriend, or whatever he was. Names were something he didn't prioritize too much. He had a poor memory for them, and really only valued his own. Granted, he valued that one a little too highly. Even drunk -- especially when drunk -- the pride in his voice when he said his own name was probably apparent. The person he was fondest of, after all, was himself.