Marcus frowned a bit. See, that was one of the (many) things he didn't get about children. They were apparently so fragile they had to be protected from something as innocuous as language. What the hell was wrong with picking up a vocabulary? Nobody had ever bothered to watch their mouths around him, growing up, and he was fine. But some women acted like swearing might cause anaphylaxis in their young. At least this one wasn't a bitch about chastising him... but knowing that he was almost pathologically incapable of watching his mouth made Marcus hesitate to say anything at all.
"Was invited," he said, by way of answering her, flashing half a smile and omitting the part where it had been a solid hijacking. "Asked to stay. Figure, por qué coño no</title>? Stuck around."
Basically, he wasn't a Prospect yet, but he'd been considering it. The pitch had been good, but the bit Rodeo had laid out about killing people still didn't sit right. He'd been in the camp long enough to see that there were some good people here, and a need for him... both of which were more than enough to stick around, but there were a lot of red flags... and people here had a habit of giving honest answers to questions that Marcus wasn't really sure he even wanted to ask.
Finding himself roofless when toxic blobs had started to rain down on them hadn't exactly been fun, though, so there was that as well.
"I'm a fu..." He glances to the kid. "A nurse." If she'd been a man, he might have used another term (he never lied to people and claimed to be a doctor, but sometimes he was cagey). Women were rarely judgmental of shit like that, however. If anything, it put them more at ease, since nurse was rarely ever equated with rapist thug. Living in a camp like this, this woman wouldn't have anything against large men with tattoos, either, but Marcus still stuck to habits bred from the old world order. He'd never exactly hung out with people in a huge raider gang, before, so didn't know where their prejudices would lie.
All right. He could do this. Treat a baby. Why not? It was just a person, albeit small and allergic to cursing and only really somewhat formed. Eventually, the baby would grow into something that could walk and talk and do all the shit people did, and Marcus liked people, right? So it was all good. He approaches carefully and crouches down in front of where she was sitting to get on eye level with the kid. He doesn't reach out to touch Liam or invade his space. Just makes eye contact. You don't know me, man, and I don't know you. But don't scream or vomit or throw shit at me, and we'll be cool. Seriously, do not pull that Exorcist shit.
When a moment passed and Liam did not projectile-vomit green pea soup at him, Marcus shifted his gaze to the mama. "You get a temp, mamí?"
Ear infection wasn't an unlikely diagnosis. Kids got them all the time, but Marcus wanted to be sure before allotting any meds. He could take a temp if she hadn't been able (not like thermometers were in high demand), but he didn't have an otoscope or anything like that to verify infection. The kid could just have a common cold, or be afraid of the rain, and giving him antibiotics for no reason wouldn't be doing him any favors. There was also the sticky fact that Marcus had no idea what kind of dosage would be appropriate for a damn baby, but first things first.