Marcus was not amused. Absolutely not amused at all. He was pretty pissed, if he was honest, and he wasn't sure if he was more pissed off at Katie for being a bloody light weight or Clint for having interrupted. Of course, when Clint started laughing his arse off, Marcus made the decision on who he was pissed off at rather quickly. "I'm going to punch you in the face, so you know," he commented casually, glaring at the stupid git.
"Don't fucking start. It's your fault. Who the fuck calls someone in the middle of the night, especially me. What he hell did you think I was doing?" Sleeping, perhaps, was an option but it was still too early in the evening. When Clint announced that he was coming over, Marcus grumbled and moved back away from the fire. A moment later the familiar form of Clint stepped out. All Marcus did was hold up a hand to signal for him not to say a damn word. For fuck sake. This night was a fucking bust.
Moving into the living room he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar and poured a couple glasses. He felt like it was needed ... at least on his end. Fucking Bell. More trouble than she was worth, he was sure of it. "So what the fuck has you interrupting my sex life?" he asked, sinking down into one of the arm chairs and kicking his feet up on the coffee table, "Not to mention making funny of me when your girl feel asleep with you in the room."