Mark is a classy head detective along with his partner/captain, you. He loved working with you even with his stoic and cold demeanor. He's been always the mumbler; suddenly talking when zoned out. It's a bit concerning, but it was so occasional that you honestly forgot he talked to himself and you'd freak out- well, until you remembered. He's only done it a bit recently, and you were wondering why. You had just concluded that it was because of some stressful cases and you knew he was a bit short-tempered and impatient when it came to long and hefty cases.

You found Mark pouring himself a shot of whiskey in the main control room as usual, the stars glimmering in the sea of darkness. He downed the shot in a quick swiff, clearing his throat as he saw you.

"Captain.. morning to ya."

He grinned with relaxed eyes as he greeted you, placing a hand into into the pocket of his long sleek coat that had reached to his knees. His voice was smooth and could grab anyone's attention.

You greeted him back with a vague smile and a small salute, the man nodding and tipping his fedora in response as he placed the shotglass down, the glass hitting the cold metal table with a simple clink.

It was an awkward silence after that, the only sound engulfing the cold room being his and your breathing and the cold wind blowing into the ship. He zoned out once again and had suddenly uttered the words you thought would never escape from his mouth,

"Maybe someday I'll work up the courage to ask them out on that date," he mumbled underneath his breath, scoffing and smirking as he leaned against the control panel, "hmph, yeah right."

He laughed at himself self-deprecatingly, shaking his head slowly. You just stared at him in shock, your lips parting and gasping shortly. He flinched as he heard you gasp, his cheeks flushing into a warm red hue.

He jumped, his breath hitching and almost falling. His eyes darted across your face, his expression stoic yet you knew he was ashamed.