"Lot worse things than to be like me," Marcus said, with a laugh. Personally, he felt there weren't enough people with his mindset, but that was to be expected. For most of his life he'd been trying to start a movement, trigger the dawn of a new age of open-mindedness and not giving a shit, however social change was always slow-paced, and he was no prophet. Generally even his attempts at being friendly were met with mixed results at best.
At her last comment, he looked down again at the bottle, weighing it in his hand, and nodded. "Heh. Yeah. Down payment on future favors. Smart fucking girl, you are. Anytime, mami. Whatever you need, eh?"
He stretched, and then stood up. The booze was making him too relaxed, and after the hours he'd put in at the infirmary, he was liable to start dozing off. That wouldn't do anything to add to her impression of him, either as a potential lay or a badass. He gestured to her with the closed bottle of tequila and a wicked smirk. "Think I'll take my prize and split. You get lonely in the night, you come find me, eh? Heh. Door's always open."
That was a solid fact. Marcus never willingly locked himself in a room. If someone wanted to off him in his sleep - living or not-so-living - they were welcome to have at it. At least he wouldn't have to wake up for it. So far, nobody had ever tried. Some nights that was more disappointing than others, but Marcus didn't like to admit to depression, either.
"I'll dream of you, Tata," he added, teasingly, as he made his way out of her room. "Even if I go to bed with some other puta, be thinking of you tonight. That's a promise."