Marco flinched when Oliver turned, briefly stopping his descent down the stairs until he realized that Oliver was just showing his hands, and not lunging. His responses were delayed, and at first hardly more than unintelligible mumbling. He still wondered if this was a trap, and if Oliver was leading him to a closet or wherever they thought it best to keep Marco until they figured out a more permanent solution. And sure, Oliver had offered to go ahead, but Marco knew that Oliver was smart, and could probably set his trap no matter where he stood. Marco just needed to get outside, and run.
"You can't fucking help me," he grumbled when he was finally able to form a more coherent sentence. Still, he looked Oliver up and down, wondering what the guy did have that he thought could help. "Well, let's see it then!"