For the most part, Marcus didn't really pay much attention to the stories they printed about him. They always had the same timbre to them and anything over the top was promptly pointed out to him via the Falcon's publicist. Dobbs, in particular, seemed to take great pleasure in letting him know. Every once in a while, however, he'd read through an article just for the sheer entertainment of it. He rather enjoyed the ones that speculated about him and Clint. Funnier than hell, they were.
Don't get him wrong, he didn't think she'd be better to have around if she was wearing a dress. It was simply the draw of the unfamiliar. A change in scenery, of sorts. "You don't give dresses enough credit. Lexi's a short ass but she has nice legs. It's not such a bad thing to show them off from time to time, is it?" he commented, eyeing the particularly long set that were currently attached to the foot being tapped against him in a somewhat irritating manner.
His attention, however, was distracted by the woman walking by and he raised an eyebrow at the interaction. He thought calling her a whore was a bit much, but he just shook his head. "It's good to be male," he commented, with a shrug. "We don't turn into catty bitches, we just try to outdo the other. Saves on the name calling and hair pulling." Women were overly complicated and it wasn't anything biological. They simply made themselves crazy over the stupidest things.
"Gives you a free pass, anyway," he smirked, eyeing her legs again. "If they already think you're a whore then there's no point in worrying about consequences."