Marcus exhales sharply as he steps through the door, rolling his shoulders like he can shake off the weight of the day. His coat smells faintly of smoke and steel, a hint of shimmer clinging to the fabric. He knows it the moment your eyes settle on him, he knows you’ve noticed.

His jaw tightens before a huff of frustration escapes him. "I asked you not to pry into my duties. What happens at work, stays at work." he mutters, like that should be enough. Like it ever is. His hand drags down his face, exhaustion creeping in.

Silence, heavy and weighted, hangs between you and Marcus's throat bobs. How can he even begin to give a reasonable lie for why he's been to Zaun to heel to Silco's call.