Marcus hated charity events. He really did. It wasn't so much the reason behind them. He'd make the necessary donations. He simply hated dressing up and interacting with individuals who were about as fake as Lockhart's stories. He hated the stuffy atmosphere full of idiots who pretended to be there for the cause behind it when in actuality they were just searching for all the more things to gossip about. If anyone had expected him to be nervous or intimidated about the dislike that had sprung up over the thing with Bell clearly didn't live in the same universe. He met each glare with a cocky smirk and most certainly didn't back down. He was still captain of the falcons and one of the best damn chasers in the league. To hell with all of those who didn't like it.
That didn't make the night any more enjoyable ... even though shoving something like that into the faces of the public did make him exceedingly happy. Dobbs was starting to become a particularly difficult pain in the arse. When she'd first signed on with the team, he hadn't expected much out of her. She'd come in and throw her weight around, all 100 pounds of it, then finally break and take off like the last one. He was starting to wish she'd just break already. Fucking Charity events with the Minister and Christmas bullshit.
Spotting Adrian, he was going to head over, but when he started moving toward Dobss, Marcus made a different call. He was not at all up to spending the night listening to Dobbs tell them how inappropriate they were as though they didn't know and didn't make the choice to be that way. Instead, he headed to the bar to grab a drink. Maybe later, he'd find someone to occupy his evening.