( it may be evening, but thanks to his tendency to sleep only for a few hours in the afternoon, marc hasn't been awake all that long. while he could go without coffee, he'd prefer not to, and so he's not surprised to see that lucina's already there when he turns up. his motorbike's been parked elsewhere, and he has in his hands two to-go cups of not great coffee, but it is coffee and that's all that matters.
in contrast to their first meeting, marc is not dressed all in white. it's thanks to necessity, not choice — he still presently only has the one suit versus the multitude he'd owned at home, and getting rid of stains is unfortunately not as easy as it had been. so where lucina's first meeting with marc had been more a mr. knight affair, this is all marc spector — a black turtleneck that's a little faded, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; the closest thing to tac pants he'd been able to find (also black), and boots.
it's not his preference, but beggars can't be choosers, so here he is.
he looks to her for only a beat, his attention quickly sliding away towards the windows of the building. unsurprisingly, there are no lights on inside, but it's easy to tell that there's no coating to the glass — if there'd been anyone around, they'd have seen what had happened. visibility, the chance of being recognised — none of it was a deterrent.
or at least, that's what marc assumes.
he holds out a cup, two sachets of white sugar (just in case!) balanced carefully on top, for lucina to take before he ducks under the yellow tape, glancing at her other hand still curled around the doorknob before— ) I can pick locks. ( a simple, blunt statement of fact — not thin, not grim, just an admission that gaining entry wasn't a concern that'd occurred to him at all. he doesn't add that he doesn't usually need to do it — his preferred method of entering locked buildings tends to be less subtle, more akin to their last meeting but, you know, he can do it. )
The coffee's black. No milk, ( he adds as he steps inside, free hand going instinctively to one side of the door, then the other as he searches for a light switch.
(he might spend a lot of time in the dark, but that doesn't mean he can see very well in low lighting. he's still just a man.) )
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in contrast to their first meeting, marc is not dressed all in white. it's thanks to necessity, not choice — he still presently only has the one suit versus the multitude he'd owned at home, and getting rid of stains is unfortunately not as easy as it had been. so where lucina's first meeting with marc had been more a mr. knight affair, this is all marc spector — a black turtleneck that's a little faded, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; the closest thing to tac pants he'd been able to find (also black), and boots.
it's not his preference, but beggars can't be choosers, so here he is.
he looks to her for only a beat, his attention quickly sliding away towards the windows of the building. unsurprisingly, there are no lights on inside, but it's easy to tell that there's no coating to the glass — if there'd been anyone around, they'd have seen what had happened. visibility, the chance of being recognised — none of it was a deterrent.
or at least, that's what marc assumes.
he holds out a cup, two sachets of white sugar (just in case!) balanced carefully on top, for lucina to take before he ducks under the yellow tape, glancing at her other hand still curled around the doorknob before— ) I can pick locks. ( a simple, blunt statement of fact — not thin, not grim, just an admission that gaining entry wasn't a concern that'd occurred to him at all. he doesn't add that he doesn't usually need to do it — his preferred method of entering locked buildings tends to be less subtle, more akin to their last meeting but, you know, he can do it. )
The coffee's black. No milk, ( he adds as he steps inside, free hand going instinctively to one side of the door, then the other as he searches for a light switch.
(he might spend a lot of time in the dark, but that doesn't mean he can see very well in low lighting. he's still just a man.) )