Where: The Crooked Fox, King's City
When: Tuesday, March 11th, 872 RoK
Marcus sat at a table, a dirty mug of mead in hand as he waited for his favorite arms dealer to arrive. Despite the unsavory clientele that frequented The Crooked Fox, he’d managed to get himself a “private” table with just a little bit of creative persuasion and happily enjoyed his drink in solitude. Juliette was due any minute and he didn’t really need any curious cut-purses listening in on their conversation, if he could help it, as it were.
He’d met others not unlike Juliette in New York - the kind of person who just carried the air about them of danger. It wasn’t the kind of raw power that Marcus prided himself on, but a quiet, knowing power. One that told him that, when it came down to it, he never wanted to end up on her bad side. Not that he had any plans to, given the side of the law he found himself on in Eventyr. Quite the departure from his days as one of the NYPD.
Eyeing the shitty little tavern he’d set up shop in while on a...personal errand in the King’s City, Marcus spotted the start of a possible bar fight with passing curiosity. “No knife,” he noted with a grumble of moderate disappointment, ignoring the patrons just like the rest of the bar seemed to. The place probably had never seen “good” days, but it certainly had seen better ones. From the leaky roof, to the floors that saw blood so often the staff gave up on getting the stains up, the place was an absolute shit hole. The kind of place no self-respecting citizen of the kingdom would stay in. It was perfect.