[mark-not-marcus]

INTRODUCING ➥ Mark Hopkins | fifty-four | fire fighter | grizzly flats

(i haven't played mark in years and years so i'm a bit rusty but he's my #1)

born and raised in san francisco

oldest sibling and natural born caretaker

jock extraordinaire. seriously, the man loves his sports

in juxtaposition to that, punk rocker. warning: may contain asshole-esque "I was there when it was written" type musical opinions

prefers british punk to american and had (no has, he doesn't care) the biggest crush on mick jones from the clash.

did not want to be a fire fighter. damn the man and i'll never be my father. tried his hand and music and failed for far too long

current employment: fire fighter

married once and divorced once. has one son he does NOT get to see enough but he has complicated feelings about what divorce does to kids and is trying to make things easy but is really making them worse (just because HE wished he'd never seen his dad again....)

kind of grumpy, perpetually in that "just woke up and haven't had my coffee" phase but underneath that is a golden retriever full of love and ready to play.

coffee (black), whiskey, burger and fries

action movies over romantic comedies (will cry at the latter though)

still hangs out with his childhood best friend and his youngest brother like once a month (the brother in between can go fuck himself)

his grandma was his favorite person in the world, she passed five-ish years ago and he's not been the same since

she was very, very catholic and raised her son...and grandsons to be the same. It didn't stick with any of them. Mark faked it the best though and as a treat got all the catholic guilt.

FULL BIO || PLAYLIST || PLOT IDEAS || PINTEREST

[magikawords]

☆ﾟ*·ﾟAs he spoke, Will listened, more intently than he had in a while. He could tell that the other was in pain and wanted to do everything that he could to make sure that he was okay. From where they were located, Will guessed that he'd been playing some kind of sport where something went awry. "Oof, I've been there before. How'd you do it? Some kind of tackle on the field?" Before he went to inspect it, which he really wanted to do, he let the other explain. He might not even want help.

Will couldn't help but laugh, placing his water down on the bench. "I wear six inch stilettos for a living, I've dislocated my share of body parts before. Besides, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." Turning his head, he saw a bag and nodded. "I got you." Will took off running toward the fence to grab his bag and slung it over his shoulder before making his way back. "Can I pop your shoulder in for you? I've got a magical cream I've made that helps soothe it."

[mark-not-marcus]

"Yeah, man," Mark agreed, his eyes closing as his head swayed slightly. He took another deep breath but this was to stop from explaining the intricacies of rugby. "It was a bad play and, I don't know, time? Or something. No, what's it called? Uh, y'know? You do it once and it happens easier or whatever." Ribbing a hand over his chest, Mark starting psyching himself up while hoping this would be the sort that just sort of went back in on its own.

"What were you doing in the heels?" Mark asked with a confused stare. "My ex performed in heels all the time but they didn't so much as break a sweat. I think if they dislocated something, I mean, I don't know how to finish that now. They never dislocated nothing though and that was some pretty serious dancing." Words were pouring out of Mark and that fact almost hurt more than his shoulder. He didn't mean to say this much but they wouldn't stop coming out of his mouth.

While the kid was gone, Mark held his breath, shook his leg, and popped his shoulder back in. For a second he saw sparks and stars in his eyes but it all dropped away fairly quickly and he relaxed back against the bench. "I think it's, like, stranger 101 to not accept 'magic creams' from strangers," he laughed, giving a nod of his head in thanks for the bag.

[remyalaire]

"I did or well, at least I like it. I know it sounds a little pretentious but—" Remy shrugged. "I don't know, it's fun." And after spending most of his life following a path laid out for him and not one he chose because he didn't think there even was anything else he could chose? It felt freeing to do something that maybe was just fun.

"If it's meant to be you'll find me." He said in a dramatic tone as if he was just out of a romcom but then laughed at himself, shaking his head. "No, um, it's called Red Mare Winery. It's in Poppy Lane. Or I can give you my number and you can, I don't know, text me whenever you're free to come up?" Remy shrugged. "No funny business." He wasn't sure adding that made the whole already awkward interaction better or worse but it was out there now.

[mark-not-marcus]

"Isn't that what its all about?" Mark said, eyes wide and speaking form experience. Though he'd dreamt of being anything but a firefighter, he didn't hate it as much as he thought he would.

Mark couldn't help the soft smile as he watched Remy laugh at his own joke. Admiring his own taste in partners for a minute, Mark nodded along. Huffing a laugh of his own out his nose, Mark repeated "No funny business," with appreciation. He kept back the easy jokes about that being fun or the point or what made it worth it. To make sure he didn't say more than he should have, he busied himself getting his phone out and unlocked. "I'm still fighting fires so the schedule is weird at best. I know it's real easy to think I'm ignoring you but, like, fire." Emphasizing the last word with his entire body, Mark handed over the phone so Remy could put his number in. @remyalaire

[remyalaire]

"I'm glad to be back." Remy admitted with a nod. "And oddly, I'm glad not much changed but I did— maybe a little. So I'm looking at everything from a different perspective." Maybe he didn't change that much but his life definitely did. Either way, it felt good to come home. He didn't feel forced to but wanting to.

He laughed warmly finding the vision funny and moved his head considering it. "You might be right. I hadn't thought of it that way." Adjusting the leash in his hand and looking at Rafa to see if he was still okay, he added, "No, but um, luckily it's not a getting drunk sort of space. Honestly, it rarely happens that someone gets too enthusiastic with in the tastings. Besides, we serve plenty of food and water. But there's the occasional guest that thinks the wine tour is dumb and drinks more than they should. And in those cases I can say I kind of miss the kids." Remy grinned as Mark agreed to come up sometime. "Don't worry, you don't have to know to drink it. I'll save you some of the good stuff."

[mark-not-marcus]

Mark may not have related to getting all tongue tied and jumbled up but he was starting to understand too well what it was like to say the wrong thing. At this point he was pretty sure people would debate the specific shades with him if he said the sky was blue. He couldn't even crack a joke without getting hit with well actually, that doesn't happen and here's why. It seemed jovial enough coming from Remy but it was the weight of every conversation Mark had lately. Still Mark put on his crowd pleasing smile and said "Sounds like you got yourself a good gig."

"For sure, man. For sure. Do you have, like, a card or....do I just guess?" he perked up at the end, feeling proud of the joke before remembering he wasn't supposed to be doing that. With a deflating sigh, Mark apologized. "Sorry. What I meant was what is the name of the place, I'd love to swing by." @remyalaire

[liegejamievanderbilt]

"Look, I promise you'll enjoy this game." Max tried. "It's two of our best teams and they're historical rivals back home. Even if it's just the beginning of the cup, they'll be at each other's throats for the honor." Watching the game at a pub was one of the few things that helped Max feel a bit more at home in the States. A ninety minute home away from home where they got to yell at the telly with a bunch of strangers. They missed London, sure, but going back now wasn't going to feel like home either. So Max made do with what they had.

Bumping their shoulder to Marks a little, with a smile, they added, "You can come over to the flat one day when the Lionesses are playing and I'll tell you all about my girls." Max added a grin for good measure.

[mark-not-marcus]

"Yeah, of course. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think there was the promise of enjoyment," Mark said, trying to help himself out of the hole he'd dug trying to bond with someone. He made a quick mental note to pay attention to which team they cheered for. Last thing he needed to do was root for the enemy.

No clarity was offered despite Mark asking and so he shrugged it off. There wasn't enough fight in him to make that happen. "I look forward to it. I'm sure they're great." Hopefully that was the right thing to say. Agreeing with them had to be good if playing the reluctant fan wasn't working out to any fun. There weren't a lot of options left after those two. @max-fairfield

[magikawords]

☆ﾟ*·ﾟIN ORDER TO stay in shape to perform, Will had to do some kind of exercise and keep himself in good condition. He had to make sure he could still dance around, do the splits, and well, walk in heels. So, every weekend, he found some kind of sports activity to partake in, and today, it was running. He'd run a few miles around the park, and was heading towards one of the benches to take a breather and drink some water. Having his water strapped in his backpack, he pulled it out as he saw someone sit as the very bench he was heading towards.

Watching him, Will tilted his head to the side, keeping an eye on him. He wasn't looking too good, and in fact, he found himself rather worried. Will ran toward him and stopped, his eyes moving toward his arm. "You okay there? Looks like your arm isn't feeling too great. Anything I can do to help?"

[mark-not-marcus]

Mark was so focused on breathing he didn't see the kid approach. The last thing he needed right now was an audience but Mark hated how much he enjoyed having anyone else present. Mark wasn't a solitary creature, he craved human connection and the only reason he wasn't on the phone to his best friend or brother right now was because he couldn't dial and walk.

Wincing as he sucked in a deep inhale, Mark looked at the face talking to him. "I think I dislocated my shoulder again. I just gotta pop it back in but it sucks to do so I'm finding the the courage or stalling or some shit. I'm not sure, man." Mark laughed, using a bit of humor to survive this. It was good to know his vision wasn't tunneling anymore and that he felt like himself. Even with the reminder that he was getting older screaming from his side. "No way you're going to want to see this but if you still want to earn your merit badges, my bag's over by the fence and there is nothing in the this world I would love more than not having to walk back over and get it." @magikawords

[rainbowxsouls]

"Okay okay, I think we're sort of fighting on the same side. Like I think we just both got a little heated and stopped listening." Layla said after a quiet pause. Mark was more guilty of not listening but she could be magnanimous. "So the problem was that I was too familiar? Okay, I can work with that. Clearly what I thought was a nice gesture, overstepped your boundaries and I'm sorry. I was kind of presumptuous about it all and I should've asked better if I could take over your kitchen." She worked out. The table kept them on opposite sides of the kitchen and honestly, it was probably a good thing. It gave them space to talk.

"You have? Ooh, I wanna hear that story! Sorry, getting distracted. Although there's some trauma brewing under the surface about not being in people's homes when you were having sex, but that's for a therapist to uncover. Anyway, I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable. I appreciate that you don't want me waiting on you. I wasn't trying to, but it means a lot that you're so against it. I was being pushy and you misunderstood my intentions. I'd rather that be the issue than something more serious." Layla said, laughing quietly and hoping to lighten the mood. What a strange man Mark was. She liked him but it was obvious to her that he had some underlying issues. She did too, so it's not like she judged. "Do you still want to eat? I can head out if you're tapped out for the night. Eat the whole thing yourself, I won't mind."

[mark-not-marcus]

With narrowed eyes, Mark thought about how he hadn't stopped listening but rather couldn't communicate his point. Hairs he didn't need to split. Certainly not now. Plus he'd had a lifetime of playing the idiot, not saying stuff came easy. Much like his frantic return was mistaken for something like anger. These were things that felt normal even if Mark didn't like them and felt too old to change things now. So he nodded, agreed to what she said and played a familiar role. "Sorry for coming in so aggressively about it," he said, hoping that was anything close to the right choice. Apologies usually were.

"Trauma for who?" Mark asked, genuinely confused. There was no way she was assigning him trauma but it didn't sound like she was claiming it for herself either. Either way it felt incredibly telling that she thought not having sex in one's house was linked to trauma for either of them. "I think its weird, is all. My ex was really into the whole homemaker thing but only when they were on stage and it was a commentary on gender I never truly understood but they were way, way too smart for me. I don't get it though. I don't cook because I can't, I've tried. but I clean real good. It shouldn't have to be the woman's job? I mean, what happens when I'm not with a woman, ya know? It's dumb."

Tentatively, Mark took a seat at the table. He wasn't sure what the right answer was to the question but he was painfully aware of right and wrong answers. "I can't eat all that." was all he offered. A true statement, that felt the safest. @laylastern

[liegejamievanderbilt]

Max was glad that Mark had that outlet as a kid. They didn't have anyone who cared enough so they had to make do. They turned out fine by some miracle when it could have been terrible for them. Max didn't look back to their childhood with nostalgia, they're happy they finally grew up. Times were never simple for them.

Agreeing with a nod at the sentiment, Max then laughed softly at Mark's stubborn and pointless argument. "Not what I said, mate. I didn't force people to come. I asked my roommate to show the games at the bar." They shrugged, people started to come in on their own. "But if you're too bored, you can go. I won't be offended. Not that you'll care if I am, I know."

[mark-not-marcus]

Mark had some serious rose-tinted glasses on when it came to his childhood. Some therapist somewhere was probably dying to get a hold of him and the fact that he coped by pretending his experience was universal and therefore just fine. He'd never complain about it and genuinely loved some pieces. Especially the sports parts.

Stubborn and pointless was exactly what Mark wanted. The low stakes "argument" was fun. He was enjoying it and it was his way of trying to have a good time. Something that wasn't catching on and Mark would be the first to point out he wasn't smart but he wasn't so dumb as to keep pushing to make it happen. "Fair enough," he said, fighting every urge in his body to sulk.

Then it went from bad to worse. Not that you'll care. Mark was familiar with this trap and he didn't mind explaining that he cared about people or detailing the ways he wanted to be there but also he was exhausted. He was here to drink, watch a game, and hang out with someone he didn't mind being around. This was probably his fault, he shouldn't have fought about soccer or whatever. He just wanted to be pals. "What?" was all he said though, maybe he misunderstood. He'd been doing that a lot lately. @max-fairfield

[mark-not-marcus]

[alxndrmrgn]

— CLOSED STARTER

who: @mark-not-marcus when & where: mark's place, around 2 am

by the time mark’s door shuts, alex is already horizontal on the couch, shoes kicked off somewhere near the entryway, jacket tossed over the back of a chair that looks like it hasn’t been used for sitting in a while. he’s staring up at the ceiling, hands folded over his chest like he’s waiting for sleep to magically take the hint. “just so we’re clear,” he says, voice carrying easily through the apartment, “it’s 2 am, my brain is doing laps, and this couch was the safest option.”

he shifts, restless even lying down, the cushion giving a tired sigh beneath him. something rattles on the floor when his foot nudges it — he pointedly ignores whatever it is. “bar’s closed. locked up. survived the evening,” he adds. “didn’t drink, didn’t spiral publicly. very proud of myself.” a beat. “privately is still up for debate.”

he finally turns his head, squinting toward mark with a crooked, familiar grin. “i tried going home. lights off, phone down, whole responsible adult routine.” he exhales. “didn’t take. so here i am.” alex props himself up on one elbow, rubbing at his eyes. “you got anything remotely edible? or are we doing your usual late-night specialty? snacks that technically count as food if you don’t think about them too hard.” he pauses, softer now, like the joke’s done its job. “thanks for being awake.”

[mark-not-marcus]

Sleep and Mark have never been close friends. When they get together, they party hard, but for the most part, sleep is something illusive. Something that barely visits. Meaning the knock at the door is heard easily and cursed out. Even though Mark has a good guess as to what's on the other side.

Grabbing a pair of pajama pants as he shuffles through the house, lazily getting dressed because he isn't surprising his neighbor like that. Again. Unsurprisingly it isn't a neighbor here to complain about music Mark hadn't been playing, it was Alex.

As the kid made himself at home, Mark grabbed a well-worn and no-longer-black Dead Kennedys hoodie off the hook by the door and wriggles into it. "Thanks for making the safe choice," Mark said sincerely, though a bit groggy.

Permanently paternal, Mark stands opposite the couch with his arms crossed. He listens to everything, doesn't interrupt, doesn't say anything. He gives Alex his full, undivided attention and patiently waits his turn.

"I'm so glad you showed up to insult my cupboards, it's been almost a week since someone came at me for how I lived. I was starting to get comfortable," Mark scoffed, all bark and no bite. "I'll get you a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, you can go wild." Tilting his head to the side for a second, Mark thought about all the times he'd walked around the house eating just that and loving it. He was just asleep enough to deal with that though.

He disappeared into the kitchen, coming back a couple minutes later with his arms loaded. Tossing each thing on the coffee table as he labeled them, Mark did what he could to provide for his guest. "Alright. We got three kids of chips. I would be weary of those spicy ones, I think I've had them for a bit. I do really have peanut butter. String cheese, Greek yogurt, the lo mien I didn't get to the other night. You could go make a quesadilla but know I'm microwaving it. This isn't a restaurant. I also got these weird cups of instant mashed potatoes. They're not great but they're warm and a single serving."

From there, Mark pulled a bottle of water out of the pocket of his hoodie, from his pants pockets he took out a can of coke and a can of lemon lime seltzer water. It wasn't much but it was the best he could do. @alxndrmrgn

[rainbowxsouls]

Layla was once again reminded why she didn't date. Men were exhausting, even in small doses like this. What the hell was going on? What was with this bait and switch? She thought everything was going so well? Now suddenly fuck her for being nice and making him dinner? "Okay, sorry for doing too much. I didn't realize I was, I guess. I was just trying to be nice and make dinner. I make dinner for my friends too. I'm confused about why you're stressed about it. Should I not have touched your things? Is that it? I don't always like people in my space." She asked, trying to understand. Layla was smart, but sometimes other people's emotions baffled her.

"I thought you liked that I was making dinner! I'm not doing an I Love Lucy thing! I'm a girl making dinner for a guy! You're the one who's seeing something where there's nothing. Are you sure that's not what you actually want? You're the one who's acting weird, you made it weird. I'm just trying to be a decent person. I'm not the one running away from the casual domesticity of sharing a meal. I sucked your dick, why is this bothering you?"

[mark-not-marcus]

Mark was feeling much of the same. This was exhausting. In part because of where he'd been before. Because he'd been in relationships where kindness was a trap and where he was told he did nothing. The claws of those who came before Layla had left scars. Leaving Mark unable to know the difference between genuine kindness and a well orchestrated trap to make him the bad guy. Mark tried to be better than this but he was far from perfect.

"I'm confused about it too," Mark admitted, eyes wide and praying for some understanding. "I don't know and maybe I shouldn't have run in here the second I had the thought? But I just knew...I think., uh, I don't know, maybe you got a bit too familiar?" It wasn't quite the issue but it was a piece of it. As close as Mark had come, though he was more focused on the "shouldn't have come in here and said anything" part right now.

"I've sucked dick before, we all have. Hooray for us. I never ended up in their kitchens. Sometimes not even in their homes..." Mark's eyes drifted to the ceiling as he thought about how maybe that wasn't great and he shouldn't have said it. Regret filled his features and he started wishing he could take it back. Take a lot of this back. "Anyway...I don't...want...waited on, I think. I'm mean, thanks for this. It's definitely too kind of you and obviously very confusing for me but...thank you." @laylastern

[remyalaire]

Remy stands back close to his dog, giving a nod and an understanding smile as Mark held his arm up, not getting any closer. "Glad to hear it."

He left a soft chuckle at the complements comment, shaking his head. "I got tongue-tied and embarrassed but the sentiment is still there and I meant what I said." His tone genuine and soft because it was true, just maybe not the best way to go about saying it. "Um, yeah. Things have been good. I haven't been in Jasper for a few years and even though I've been back for a while, it stills feels like yesterday. I keep randomly bumping into people just like this." He explained, pointing back and forth between them.

"I'm working at Red Mare winery now. Stopped teaching for a while." Not sure why but he added that bit of info. "I'd love to have you over and give you a tour if you're ever in the neighborhood." And he wasn't just saying that because he felt bad about their encounter, it was an honest invitation. Remy was slowly re-connecting with his old life and running into known faces was nice. He didn't feel too out of place at home.

[mark-not-marcus]

Giving a nod to say it happened to the best of us, Mark commiserated with a moment that didn't happen to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been flustered and tongue-tied. Confidentially saying the wrong thing, sure, but not all jumbled up. "Yeah, this place doesn't change all that much," Mark laughed. He'd been here for decades so he felt he could start saying shit like that. "Welcome back, though? I dunno if I'd be celebrating it but people like the place."

"It's probably similar skills though, yeah?" Mark joked, stretching an arm across his chest. "Like, wrangling people who've had a bit too much and trying to get kids to listen." Switching arms, he held that one there a little longer, trying to think what to say. Something he was not good at. "I think my local pub would miss me too much but, uh, yeah, man. If you ever want to slum it with people who wouldn't know a red from a white, I know a few good places." @remyalaire

[rainbowxsouls]

"What are you talking about? What do you call this?" She asked, gesturing to the table. It was pasta and chicken parm. What was so strange about that? Did he want her to do more? Less? Let it be said that older men were just as weird as younger ones? "I was just trying to be nice. We fucked, you mentioned you were hungry, and I offered to make something. I don't understand why you're freaking out. Should I have made something horrible?"

Layla rolled her eyes but sat down at the table. The food she made was good and just because he was having an issue doesn't mean she couldn't eat. "I understand that. I don't feel like a maid because I made dinner. For both of us. I wasn't slaving away for hours or anything, you literally watched me." She said, after a bite of chicken. Layla pointed to his seat, urging him to sit down and eat as well. "I guess I thought you were going for a thing. Are you not going for a thing? Like, I was getting vibes that you liked me cooking."

[mark-not-marcus]

Putting a hand in his hair, thankfully remembering the cigarette in the other hand that had nearly put itself out (the safe papers that annoyed him so were actually saving him and his floors right now). "Yeah, you should have made something horrible," he shot back, glaring at her and trying to silently communicate that that was a ridiculous statement. Finding his way towards something closer to what he wanted to say, Mark tossed out "You're doing too much." before going to toss the cigarette in the ashtray outside.

Mark wasn't able to sit down, he stood as far from the table as he could and still be in the room. Arms crossed over his chest and shoulders slumped. "A thing? A thing?! What thing?" he said, looking around like some third party was going to clue him in to what that meant. "I don't mind you cooking. Lord knows I can't but it doesn't have to be a thing? What are talking about? I can clean. I can make drinks, I don't know. it was getting very, uh, I Love Lucy in here and that's not cool, man. It's weird? It's weird." @laylastern

[mark-not-marcus]

closed starter for @magikawords location: the park

Mark had been a jock for as long as he could remember. He was a punk, a dad, a firefighter, and so many other things but underneath all that, he was a jock. Sports made him happy. He also didn't know who he was without them. There'd always been some sort of team he was on.

These days he had to join "senior" leagues and it was a tough blow to his ego but it was an even tougher one when he was the weakest player. He'd found a great thing with this rugby team. The perfect blend of taking it seriously and having a lot of fun.

Today was heavy on the serious and very, very light on the fun. With his left arm cradling his side, leaning over so he didn't extend his body too much, Mark hobbled to a nearby bench to try and figure out how worried he needed to be right now. The pain was pretty intense but he didn't think there was any hospital-worthy injuries happening. He might have to call in sick tomorrow though. That is if he could get home, get in his house even. Shutting his eyes tight and holding his breath, Mark got himself to sit down. Something that did not feel better (but it didn't feel worse) but there was no undoing it now.

[liegejamievanderbilt]

"I suppose it's a bit of a universal experience, the bit about listening to music too loud as a teen, I mean." No matter what type of music you'd listen to, it seemed to be the only way of doing it back then. "But at least you were getting a bit of exercise as a kid, which I think is good for any kid." Unlike Max who didn't spend much time outside. The only exercise they used to do was walk home from school. They made up for it as they grew up but they still wish they would have joined a football team when they were younger.

Max chuckled, "I wasn't objectifying them. I just think women are better at everything but, again, might be cos the gay thing." It wasn't a sexual thing, maybe it was more of a feminist thing or— well, the world is run by men and it's shit so. The second Mark said football was boring, Max's head whipped to him so fast they almost had whiplash. "Are you joking?" They laughed, incredulous. "I literally basically forced this bar to show the Premier League. Yeah, maybe soccer is boring cos Americans kinda suck at it. But it's my football is definitely not boring."

[mark-not-marcus]

Gesturing to himself, Mark took faux-offense. He didn't stop "getting a bit of exercise" just because he was an adult. A couple of failed years at hockey wasn't the only sport he'd played either but his grandparents didn't know what to do with two rowdy boys and their abandonment issues, stick 'em in sports was the answer. it'd really worked for Mark (and didn't at all work for his brother) "I'd hate to know what we'd have been like without some sort organized sport or...judo class."

"Women are better at everything," Mark said, almost relieved to let that statement out. There wasn't a thing he thought he could accomplish that a woman couldn't do better. Of course, he thought most people could do things better than him so, again, gender wasn't a huge factor. He wasn't following along with the reasoning or connection to sports or much of anything, really. Which was fairly normal but he was trying. Very hard. "Yeah, you proved my point? You wouldn't have to force anyone if it was entertaining but if I want to see a bunch of men flop on the ground at any minor inconvenience I'll go back to that club my ex took me to. At least I got something fun out of that." At this point, Mark was intentionally winding them up but he had to find fun somewhere. @max-fairfield

[forevertouched]

"You can call me Javier, you know." Javier teases lightly, shaking his head. "And I'm sure you're perfectly capable of cutting vegetables, are you not? You can make the salad. And lucky for you, we do have paramedics on site if you need them." Though technically Mark was older than Javi, he outranked him, and he was sure the other man was able to complete the task that he had requested.

"It's either lunch or cleaning the trucks. Your choice." He offers with a shrug, amused. Personally, he'd choose the former over the latter, but to each their own.

[mark-not-marcus]

The choice to respond with "chief" was made without thinking but meant to be fun. A bit of playful respect but not welcomed. Mark made note of that and carried on.

He was ready to continue joking around but the longer Javier spoke, the less this seemed like a fun thing. It was an order. Something he was doing regardless and playing like he'd end up injured if he picked up a knife wasn't going to go over well. Mark didn't even offer that he taken (and passed) all the paramedic classes. He just grabbed a knife and looked at the vegetables, trying to figure out how one cut them for salad.

What bothered him most was the threat about cleaning the trucks, like Mark didn't understand the give and take of this and was just sitting around doing nothing.

Remembering a bit more of how to function in an actual kitchen, Mark put the knife down and went to wash his hands. He didn't mind helping to the best of his abilities here but wasn't feeling particularly excited about getting double duty today. Were it anyone else, Mark would have pushed back but not with the chief. So Mark went back to the knife and looked at...a cucumber? Or maybe a zucchini. He was never really sure which was which. Painfully slowly, he started to slice it, taking all the care he had not to ruin the thing but still coming out with uneven slices. @forevertouched

[rainbowxsouls]

"Hey, don't sound too annoyed, I was one too. Maybe not as intense, but I definitely terrorized a diner or two when I was younger." She grumbled, watching him leave to go outside a smoke. She expected him to take his time, but he came in only a few minutes later. She had just finished putting the food out on the table.

"I don't think so. I just made you dinner, that's all. I was hungry and I figured you would be too and I like cooking. You didn't tell me I couldn't." Layla said, twisting her fingers as she stiffly sat down at the table. Well now she felt awful, awkward and embarrassed. "I didn't mean to just take over or anything. I was just trying to be nice. But um, if it's making you uncomfortable, I can leave. I'm probably wearing out my welcome anyway. Like the point of a one night stand is that you're supposed to leave afterwards. Um, I'm sorry." Fuck, Layla felt like a child. Mark was probably regretting this whole thing. He kindly kick her out and she'd go home like a loser and somehow everyone in town would find out and mock her. Both her and Mark were at a standstill, staring at each other from across the kitchen.

[mark-not-marcus]

"You're not just cooking," Mark said, his brain working overtime trying to get to the rest of this so he could explain himself better.

Then she took things all the way to "I can leave" and Mark found his chest filled with a far too familiar annoyance. Why did people always do this? Now he was the asshole for not wanting a servant, because she shouldn't be doing all the housework just because she's a woman. He was always the bad guy and somehow always apologizing. The annoyance turned to frustration as he steeled his look and let it simmer off. Because if they were going to strictly abide by gender roles here, he wasn't allowed to so much as raise his voice. Men are too aggressive.

"You're welcome to leave any time you'd like," he tried to say softly, it was still rough around the edges but he was trying. "While you're here, however, I'd like for you to be a guest in my home and not the maid." @laylastern