"Heh. Sure. Get back to me when you want real action. Either way. I'm easy to find. Not looking to just get talked down to by a fucking cachorro." Marcus said with a shrug, still fixedly not looking at the other man. He thought he could picture the expression on the guy's face pretty well, and didn't need to verify whether or not he was right. He was fairly sure that he was. The read he'd gotten when the guy walked in seemed to be on the money, so everything else was probably right. And there it was again. Leave my fucking sisters alone.Leave my kid alone. He felt his hackles rise at that, but he wasn't going to turn around. His eyes scanned the bottles behind the bar, in front of him, instead. For all he knew, the guy had already stormed off and he was talking to them. "You fuckers keep jumping to that, like I'm the fucking threat. Not going after anybody. Never was. But hey, you all want to get pissed at something, whatever. Line up to kick my ass or suck my cock, you or anyfuckingbody. No difference to me."
Marcus set his own glass down, risking a glance over his shoulder. Curious to see if the guy was even still there. He thought he could make the guy mad enough to attack him... Just from what the man had already said about the sisters, the bit about the head honcho, there was a lot there to dig into if they were going to go down that road. But it would be really stupid to just deliver a string of insults to a shelf of bottles and an uncomfortable bartender. In fact, if this guy actually had real power, it would probably be stupid to start insulting him off the bat, anyway. The guy hadn't actually said anything too bad to Marcus, he'd just been reactionary and temperamental, so there was no reason to go personal. After glancing over, Marcus just left it at what he'd already said and held his tongue on the rest of it. An offer. A bargain. He'd leave them alone if he was left alone, and if they wanted to fight, he'd happily comply.