x_x
Cows. Well, that made fucking sense, didn't it? Naturally, she'd be watering the cows. Marcus wasn't familiar with animals, but he imagined that they weren't too different from people in their necessities. Some people treated their dogs and cats like they were offspring, and living in the camp these last months had at least exposed him to enough children and animals to realize that the differences were pretty minimal. One of the kids who'd only been capable of infant babbling when Marcus first met him had started speaking in actual words. It had felt as jarring and surreal to him as it would have if Rodeo's dog, Sweet Melissa, had started doing the same.
Still, an inherent aversion to something wasn't going to get him to back down from being friendly, or delivering his warning. So Marcus nodded, smiled, and reached out to take her hand in one of his own. It wasn't an actual handshake so much as it was a warm squeeze; more of a promise towards potential affection than a strictly business introduction. He couldn't change his natural way of approaching others any more than he could his height, even if his intent wasn't actually to try to seduce.
"Marcus Caravahlo," he usually paired both of his names together. A habit that actually differentiated him from the large population of the camp, which seemed to exist on first names and often eschewed legal birth names altogether in favor of colorful nicknames. He liked his full name, though. Thought it rolled off the tongue (his own as well as others), and didn't have anything attached to it that he was running from, legally or otherwise. Either the mistakes he'd made over his life were few, or he was the kind of man who owned up to them.
His gaze fell to the jugs. "Want a fucking hand with them, chica?"
He'd just showered, but offering to help haul water wasn't like rolling around in cow shit. Besides, how long had it been since he'd seen a live cow up close? Seemed like a novelty he shouldn't pass up, given the circumstances.