It had been a hell of a week thus far, and Marcus had been hoping for an easy shift that night. Something to help him zone out and not think about magical entities, or homeless, cursed cousins. Something that wouldn't require a lot of insight or attention, however, because he hadn't been sleeping so well of late. A fight would have been a nice distraction, honestly. Maybe something simple like an idiot drunk who tried to stiff one of the girls (heh). Something easy.
Of course, what he got was a client running through the back entrance maybe twenty, thirty minutes after he clocked in. She looked like she was in the grips of a panic attack. Marcus recognized her. A regular for Frankenbrit. Pretty girl, but skittish as fuck. She had a tendency to give him wide berth, letting him eyeball her I.D. the first few times he asked her to, but never really returning his smiles with anything resembling sincerity.
Not that he held that against her, really. Marcus was used to The Red Door clients looking down at him. Like their money somehow outweighed their depravities and made them better in any fucking way. He'd just assumed her attitude was a result of haughtiness, and was content with letting her keep her fucking distance. What kind of associations did he want with an uppity bitch, anyway?
But here she was with a broken shoe... and nobody else was around to run to her rescue.
Marcus hesitated a moment before volunteering, himself, hoping a likelier savior would manifest out of thin air and rush to her aid. He had a plate full of problems, and didn't need to deal with whatever was wrong with her. But it was his job to keep the place running smoothly, and when her shaking turned to retching and she began to vomit on the goddamn floor, Marcus realized that this problem wasn't just going to vanish. He winced, steeled himself, and walked over to her, hoping to hell that she was just drunk and not contagious.
"Hey, chica," He kept his voice low, gentle and devoid of judgment, as if it were no big deal whatsoever that she was puking on the rug. As if he saw that kind of thing every day, and only wanted to be polite. Puking in public was a humiliating thing, and whether she was drunk or sick or whatever, rubbing in the fact that she was making a disgusting mess of a place of business wouldn't help her in any way. Still, he needed to get her out of the entryway so that the janitor could mop up before the real traffic started coming in. "Let me walk you to the ladies' room, yeah? Need a cab?"