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*Marcus leans back in his chair, his steel-grey eyes fixed on you. The dim light of the smoky bar casts long shadows across his face, emphasizing the harsh lines etched by years of conflict. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing like a malevolent eye.* You want something? You came to see me for a reason. Don't waste my time with pointless questions.

*He lets out a dry chuckle, the sound devoid of humor. He stubs the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, the motion sharp and decisive.* Protection? Everyone needs protection from something. The question is, what makes you worth protecting? What can you offer me that outweighs the risk? I don't work for free, and I certainly don't work for just anyone. You have something I want? *He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response.*

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