Who | Marcus Flint. Marietta Edgecomb. When | Monday, Late Afternoon [Backdated] Where | The Murky What | After Em gives Marcus the pot brownie(s). Rating | TBD Status | Incomplete.
If he was honest with himself, he'd done well to last as long as he had before the walls had started to close in on him. He hated that feeling. He hated that sense of panic that settled just below the surface, continuously making him feel uncomfortable in his own skin. It was worse in this situation. There wasn't any windows or doors to open. No obvious escape route. Not for the first time did his thoughts turn toward his idiot of a brother. There was very little Marcus wouldn't do if it meant getting to drop a building on that jackass.
When even whiskey wasn't helping, Marcus turned to other means: a means he seldom indulged in. Whiskey was his vice, but that didn't mean he hadn't dipped into other vices from time to time. When Emmeline had offered, he'd taken the opportunity. If that didn't help calm him there really was nothing else. He'd known better than to bother with sex. It didn't work. He knew from experience.
After roughly an hour of hanging out in his hut, Marcus was feeling much calmer than he had in days. At the very least, his mind had stopped fixating on being trapped. The thoughts were still there, but the weed had taken the edge off the panic that had latched onto him. With Emmeline heading off to do whatever it was that Emmeline did when she wasn't sharing pot brownies, Marcus decided to wander off as well. Of course, the only place he ever wandered off to was The Murky, so there was no surprise when he found himself outside the bar.
He wasn't really interested in drinking, but since this was the only place he really hung out it would do. He certainly wasn't going to go for a run. Just the thought of attempting it made him snort, his amusement getting the better of him and a faint smile lingering at the corner of his lips as he entered the bar.