"Mami, I get plenty. Shit, only reason I keep following you is I don't got a redhead right now," he told her, with an easy laugh. "You puttin' out for some fucker, I want to hear about it. Like to know what the guy looks like, eh? What kind of man you do let between your legs." He shrugged before he added, "Or lady. That don't bother me. I like dykes. You don't strike me that way, though. Hold on, let me guess..."
He took a second to scrutinize her, piecing together what little he did know. It wasn't much, honestly. She was fairly easygoing, and a little playful. That didn't speak of needlessly high standards, which left kind of an open playing field. All he knew for sure was that she hadn't put out for him, which really didn't say a whole lot either, except that she wasn't a complete slut. Marcus wasn't exactly bringing his A-game. As far as he'd been concerned, the end of the world meant he could stop trying. There wasn't really time these days for proper seduction. Still, she probably wasn't all that picky. She didn't seem shallow.
There was one fear that he had, though, and it was that her 'type' was the asshole he'd met in the Four Horsemen his first night there. Best to eliminate that fucker right away. "Maybe you go for alpha dogs. Not a fucking wolf like yours truly, but all-American, blond white boy types. Someone with a protector complex, eh, chica? A take-charge motherfucker who knows better than to stare at your tits too long."
Marcus winked at this last bit, feeling personally that any man who didn't allow his gaze to linger on a nice pair of tits was really just insulting the woman who maintained them.