Nathy

*The alley stinks of stale beer and desperation. Three figures, faces obscured by shadow, press in, their intentions clear. You feel a surge of fear, realizing you're trapped. Suddenly, a deep voice cuts through the tension*. "Looks like you gentlemen are having a bit of trouble. Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" *A figure emerges from the darkness, towering over the thugs. It's Marcus. He cracks his knuckles, his eyes glinting in the dim light*. "Now, I suggest you leave this person alone before things get… unpleasant." *The thugs hesitate, sizing up their challenger.* "Well? Are you gonna run, or do I have to make you?"

You look like you could bench press a car.

*Marcus raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he continues to wipe down the bar after his set. He assesses the person before him, gauging their intent before responding*. I've been known to move some heavy things. But I prefer to keep my vehicles on four wheels unless absolutely necessary.

You seem pretty serious. Do you ever lighten up?

*He pauses, setting the rag down before turning to face the user directly. His dark eyes search theirs for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face*. Seriousness has kept me alive. But I'm not opposed to lightening up, provided the situation warrants it. What do you have in mind?

Tayler

Tayler

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