Marcus Caravahlo (caravahlo) wrote in immune_ic, @ 2012-07-21 20:25:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | # 2012 [07] july |
WHO: Marcus (if anyone is craving supplies/interaction, they are welcome to tag in, otherwise this will be stand-alone and considered done as is)
WHAT: Marcus is disappointed and guards a door for a while.
WHERE: Supply Room
WHEN: Very shortly after Taisce's text on the 21st
RATING: PG for language.
Texting was really the mark of the greatest fall of Mankind, as far as Marcus was concerned. It was one of the ideas that sounded great on paper, expediating communication and efficiency and all that, but then when put into practice the cracks really began to show. Texting was the reason that you couldn't trust women with cell phones. They invariably wanted to text, and that invariably led to misinterpretations and misunderstandings on his part. Vague directives that sounded like come-ons but weren't actually, and don't even get him started on emoticons. Goddamn fucking emoticons.
So to say that Marcus had been tricked into doing things he normally wouldn't do by text would be putting it mildly. One would think that he'd learn from experience and just stop blindly following texts, but learning from his experiences wasn't really his strong suit. Hope springs eternal, and all that. When a woman told him to meet her somewhere, say, like a supply room, he couldn't help assuming that she wanted to screw him in said location. Especially after he'd put in the legwork already and let her win at cards. Granted, he wasn't an idiot, and did know that there was at least a fifty percent chance that she'd just be worried about her "friend" and wanted someone to whine about it to, but that was always the risk when dealing with the fairer sex.
He did not expect to be handed a fucking three-ring binder, a set of keys, and instructions to stand guard over a door. Before there was really time to ask "What the fuck is this?" he was abandoned to the post by a very rushed Taisce. A scowl pulled at his features. What did he look like, a guard dog? He wondered what she was getting off to. It probably had to do with all the chaos. Maybe her friend was dead or some shit. He'd already decided that the friend was some guy, which was fine. Marcus was not the jealous sort. Unless of course he found out he'd been suckered into doing Taisce's job while she answered some other dude's booty call. Then he was going to be pissed. Not to mention owed. It would really be better for all involved if the dude was dead, or dying. He'd have to remember to ask, later.
Idly, Marcus flipped through a few pages of the inventory he'd been handed. If it comes in or goes out, you right it down, she'd said. Cute, trusting him with the supplies. Not that there was anything there he'd want. It wasn't the armory, and all the liquor was locked up in the Four Horsemen. If he was going to steal supplies, it wouldn't be these. Still, a generous spirit could take this as a sign of trust. A token of some kind of budding friendship, or whatever. Of course, a generous spirit could also damn well expect a handjob, as well, for services rendered. This was such utter bullshit.
Still, Marcus found himself leaning back against the door in a distinctly guard-like posture while he played with his phone. He might even be inclined to stick around for a few hours, or at least while shit was going down, so long as he didn't get an emergency text from the infirmary from that lady doctor. It didn't seem like a great deal of people were injured, however. Somebody or somebodies had gone and gotten themselves injured very badly, and Marcus wasn't a doctor so he couldn't help with that shit. His role was more for situations where quantity of patients was a concern.
As far as crazed, Popeye-armed zombies were concerned... he still wasn't sure what to make of that rumor. That sort of thing was why he kept everything packed, ready. Just in case he needed to move fast. He knew exactly how long it took him to get from the supply room back to his room and then out of fucking Sing Sing if real hell broke loose. Beyond that it was just keeping an ear out there, and keeping an eye on the network, in case it did. That was really all anyone could do. Where it was done didn't matter, so it wasn't like staying close to the supply room was putting him out exactly. He doubted anyone would come along to steal anything. In fact, it seemed more likely that Taisce would have a change of heart about his suggestions for the best ways to blow off steam. Then again, if some thief did come by that meant a chance for an actual, honest-to-God fight, which was the next best thing to what he'd initially come down here for. That wouldn't be so bad.
One thing he could be one hundred percent sure of was that he had no intention of writing any shit down in the binder. So far as he concerned, that was actual fucking work, and it could remain untouched until Taisce did come back.