In contrast, Marcus was a hell of a lot less likely to straddle the same line. Quidditch was universal ... unless you were some douche bag and/or got in the way of what he wanted, then Quidditch didn't matter. It really wasn't entirely the whole Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry that him disliking a good many people in attendance. It just so happened that irritatingly self-righteous do-gooders happened to make up a good portion of that lion population. So really, it was their own fault.
"Well, you know what they say," he returned, more than comfortable with her settling against him, "quality over quantity." When she agreed to a drink, Marcus fell into step behind her as she led the way. He made a face at her order of rum and coke. Too bloody sweet for him. Give him whiskey any day. He'd take a beer or two from time to time, but whiskey was his drink of choice. Always had been.
He raised an eyebrow when she asked what had prompted this. "Lexi had said she didn't want to celebrate her birthday if we couldn't all be together, which is pretty impossible this weekend, so it made sense to get smashed before hand. Hence the reason we're all dressed up on a Tuesday." That wasn't the entire reason, of course, but it worked well enough. "Since you two are a day apart, it seemed a bit silly to throw two separate parties. Not to mention the fact that you'd both be attending the other's party."
He glanced back at the group behind them. "As for the redheads, nancies, and future pool boys," he responded, turning back to her with a smirk, "I figured you would cry if I made your friends find their own party."