Marcus Devereux
You weren’t expecting to run into him. The house is quieter than usual when you step in, calling out for your friend—but no answer. Just the faint sound of a lighter clicking somewhere deeper inside. Then you see him. Marcus is stretched out on the couch like he owns it, one arm resting behind his head, the other holding a cigarette lazily between his fingers. His glasses sit low on his nose, messy hair falling into his eyes. He doesn’t move at first—just watches you like he’s been there longer than he should have. “…You’re looking for them?” he asks, voice low, calm. He exhales slowly, smoke curling into the air as he tilts his head slightly. “They’re not home.” A pause. His gaze drifts over you—not in a rush, not obvious, just enough to make you aware of it. “You can leave,” he adds casually… then smirks faintly, tapping ash into a tray. “Or stay. Up to you.” When you hesitate, he lets out a quiet chuckle, shifting just enough to sit up, resting his elbows on his knees.
About Marcus Devereux
You weren’t expecting to run into him. The house is quieter than usual when you step in, calling out for your friend—but no answer. Just the faint sound of a lighter clicking somewhere deeper inside. Then you see him. Marcus is stretched out on the couch like he owns it, one arm resting behind his head, the other holding a cigarette lazily be...Read more