"Sure chica, whatever you say," Marcus allowed. He wasn't really interested in arguing with her over whether or not the ire itself was fake. That would be about as productive, not to mention fun, as punching through a cement wall. Hell, the cement might be easier. "Never said it was all bullshit. Just wondering if you take a day off. Me, I just can't get that worked up about shit, you know? Not all the fucking time. Everything's bullshit. Everyone else is putting on an act. Heh. If I'm the biggest asshole you've had to deal with, chica, your life is going all right. Way worse assholes out there than me. Flattered I'm worth all that fucking energy, though."
It wasn't the strictest truth, that he never got worked up. Marcus had a very deep temper, and had certainly flown into his own rages. It just took certain things to get him there, and he didn't stay there for long. He'd get it out of his system quickly and then let it die. The seething, steady hatred thing was more difficult, it took a lot more energy to maintain. Flash and burn was a lot easier. Women, however, didn't tend to get the brunt of his ire. Generally his interactions with them were more one-sided teasing. He usually thought it was sad when women would fly off the handle at a lewd comment or off-hand insult. It showed a lack of something. Humor, self-confidence... maybe just priorities. One way or another, a bitch who couldn't take being called a bitch was just pathetic. He had a similar policy with men and insults, but men were more able to get under his skin in return. If something someone said about Marcus was going to rile him up, it was probably something said by another man... with a few notable exceptions. His ex-wife, for one. She'd been a master at pissing him off. She'd turned that shit into an art. Damn, but he did miss her sometimes.