She's frustrated with him, too, and that sure as hell isn't gonna fly. He didn't ask her to come here, didn't ask her to get herself involved with his life, with his problems. He's handling it fine, and if she wants to go, he isn't going to stop her. He neither needs nor wants her to be a damsel in distress, because he isn't interested in saving her. He just wants her to stay out of his business.
But she won't go, and he knows that. Not for him, of course, but for Steven. He knows she doesn't give a damn about him, and he can't say the feeling isn't mutual, but Steven worships the ground she walks on, and she's been nice enough to let him. Marc just has the unfortunate luck to be the man whose body the poor sap lives in. So maybe they both got the short end of the stick.
But that doesn't matter now, because there's a man on his radar that matches the description that she gives. There's a man that he followed here that looks a hell of a lot like the man she describes. He could keep being a dick, and he probably will be, but he can't let that get in the way of his responsibilities. It is, after all, how he's always handled Khonshu.
"Yeah," he says, allowing the suit to fall away. At least he's dressed the way he wants to be, isn't set up as Steven. Marc was the one to bring them here, and Steven's interference was only minor. "I know the guy." Khonshu's been cagey about this one, but he's told him some. Not much, though, beyond a name. He's not all that surprised that he seems to have the jackals under his control, or that he's sending them after him. After all, if Marc knows him, he undoubtedly knows Marc.
He runs a hand over his face, eyes on the spot where the jackal had been. He's tired, and he's feeling a little spacey. Nothing he can allow himself to linger on, though. Never has been, never will be.
She's shoving past him, and he guesses he can't blame her for the attitude. After all, he's given her no small amount of his own, and he's probably not going to stop any time soon. He means it about not wanting her here, and since she doesn't seem interested in leaving, he's not above being, as she thinks of him, a petulant arse.
He's really getting tired of the English.
He follows after her, not necessarily to help, but to scan the room, to see if there's anything he's missing. The clerk might be a problem, but no one's going to believe any story that might be told anyway, so Marc can't imagine that the problem will elevate into anything. "Yes," he says, which isn't exactly entirely true. It's clear that the other man, Harrow, has his eyes on it, and safe isn't the right word for it, but he doesn't need her thinking that he's fucked up any more. "I've got it under control."
Which is, of course, probably one of the biggest lies he's ever told.