As Mark sat down in his green patio chair he cracked open a Budweiser he had managed to find on his way out to the back deck. He looked out toward the horizon, dark clouds, perfect Seattle weather, were on the horizon. Just as he was about to take a sip of beer he heard a voice, not just any voice a woman's voice, off in the distance. He heard the bag wave and looked to see doughnuts through a plastic bag in one hand and a six pack of Budweiser in the other. "Aww fuck," he mumbled under his breath so that it was barely audible. She was clearly old enough to not be his daughter, he was barely thirty years old so that was definitely not it.<br/><br/>Mark reached to the opposite side of the chair, where she would not be able to see, click, click the distinct sound of a pump action shotgun could be heard. He brought the twelve gauge Remington shotgun around, it wasn't loaded, he had been in trouble for that before, but no one said he couldn't use it to scare others away. As long as she didn't call his bluff he was good. Mark aimed it right at the blonde woman, her fair skin told him she likely spent a lot of time indoors, and the skirt screamed reporter, but he didn't make any assumptions just yet.<br/><br/>"I don't know who you are, but you are barkin' up the wrong tree missy prissy." His gruff voice called out. "I don't do autographs no more, I don't do public appearances, and I don't talk to no one for nuttin', so get away from my boat before you test my aim." His eyes narrowed, his arms wavered, even if it had been loaded he likely would have taken all three shells to hit her. His words were spoken true enough though, and it was enough to scare away most who had tried to talk to him, he only hoped it worked this time as well. The doughnuts were enticing, as was the beer though a case of twenty four and a good dark IPA would have been better. Budweiser was cheap, and a cheap drink worked just as well as an expensive one when all he needed was to drink.